Racetrack's Story
by Aris1013
Summary: This is my take on Racetrack's life. Part of my fun saga of all the Newsie's stories.
1. The Watch

**AN: Finally I am back into the writing Newsies! This is Racetrack's story it was requested by Spotlover so I hope you like it! Thanks for everyone who read and is still reading Spot's Story, this story will be written in the same way. Enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies but no one has taken up my offer to help me kidnap them…darn…oh well any way this goes for the whole story! **

0000000000

_**Normal POV**_

Anthony "Racetrack" Higgins was born March 18 1880 in Italy. Times were tough so his mother Antonia and father Roberto decided to live out the American dream and migrate to New York where most of the people seemed to be going. Of course as most people came to find out America was not always as great as others made it out to be. On the long boat ride from Italy to New York Antonia became gravely ill, as did others on the cramped boat. Sadly there was little help for her and the rest so most of them perished. Four year old Anthony was now left without a mother. America did not seem so great to him now. Anthony and his father moved on though determined to make the best out of their new lives. Roberto and Anthony found a very small apartment in Brooklyn to live in. It was only one room but that was just enough room for the two to live in. Anthony had little education, his mother was teaching him how to read but ever since she died he stopped learning. Roberto tried to teach him all he knew but most of that was about gambling. Gambling was Roberto's favourite pastime. Gambling was the way Roberto got the money to come to America. Roberto taught Anthony every trick and cheat of the trade. Soon Roberto started taking Anthony to a place he would become very familiar with; Sheepshead races. To Anthony it was the greatest place in the world. He loved the horses and the loud noises of people screaming and cheering. The adrenaline he felt during every race was incomparable to anything else in his life. It was a place where he could have no worries or bad thoughts, it was his sanctuary. Anthony would learn many things at Sheepshead: how to speak and read in English, math, and all the history of gambling and races he could ever know. Almost everyday of Anthony's life would be spent at the Racetracks.

For four years Roberto and Anthony went to Sheepshead races everyday. Sometimes Roberto would let Anthony pick the horses and usually he was pretty good at it. One day Anthony picked the winning horse! Roberto was so excited he decided to go with a few guys to a bar and buy them a round of drinks. He took Anthony along letting him hold on to some of the winnings. When they got to the bar Roberto bought Anthony a soda and let him sit on his lap while he played poker with the guys. Anthony was very excited to get to watch his father in action. Soon his excitement would turn into terror.

Roberto has one the game and everyone's money, he was very excited and everyone else was really mad. One of the guys accused Roberto of cheating and that is where this story truly begins. The man threw his chair as he got up and grabbed Roberto out of his chair. Anthony hid under the table. The man in a drunken rage starting punching Roberto determined that he cheated. Eventually the man got so mad he pulled a knife and stabbed Roberto in the chest. His golden pocket watch fell from his vest as he fell to the ground.

"Papa!" Anthony ran out from under the table and went to his father's side.

Roberto was bleeding badly, "A-Anthony I love you so much."

"No Papa please!" Tears streamed down his eyes.

"Anthony listen to me very carefully, d-don't ever get caught."

Though Anthony did not understand it completely at the time he nodded in agreement and stayed at his father's side until his last breath. "I love you."

The man that stabbed him has taken his money back and ran out of the bar. Anthony decided to take his father's advice; he picked up his watch and ran out of the bar as fast as he could. He ran and ran until he could not run anymore; he knelt down in an alley and cried very hard. Now eight year old Anthony was without any family. Anthony cried so hard his head hurt, he opened up the pocket watch to find that it had stopped at ten fifty-seven. Almost the exact same time his father had died.

He would keep the pocket watch with him always. Almost none of the boys knew that it was broken. Most thought he just lifted it off some sorry old man like he did his cigars. From that night on Anthony knew that he could never get caught cheating, his father did not get caught but he was cheating. Only Anthony knew, but others figured it out. No, Anthony vowed to never get caught at anything, and on the off chance that he did he would run far away from the situation. He got up from his spot in the alley and started walking knowing he could use what little money he had to survive for a little longer.

000000000

**AN: Okay so there is the first chapter! I know that Anthony has been used hundreds of times but it just fits him so well. This one will probably not be as dark as Spot's. Requests and idea will be gladly taken for this story because I'm kind of winging it as I go haha…Updates on this story will be a little slow for a while because I am still writing another fic…Thanks for reading! **


	2. Home

**Thank you so much lilnewsie77, Smiley94, NewsiesSpot88, spotlover, romirola, and NewsiesRacetrack88 for reviewing! I missed you guys a lot! **

000000000

_**Normal POV**_

Anthony decided to go back to his home in Brooklyn, he knew it would be risky because people could be looking for him but he decided to do it anyway. He went in the apartment as fast as he could, he did not want to be seen. Grabbing all he could carry Anthony knew he could not stay at the apartment no matter how much he wanted to; the landlord would find out about his father and kick him out on the streets. Why wait for that to happen when you can just leave now? Anthony grabbed some clothes, his father's playing cards, dice, and whatever food he could carry. As he opened the door to leave Anthony took one final look back wondering where he would end up next.

Standing in front of the Brooklyn Bridge Anthony wondered where he should go. He thought about staying in Brooklyn but decided to start a new life. Anthony slowly walked across the bridge into Manhattan it took a while but all Anthony had was time. He walked through the streets and watched the city. He noticed that there were other kids around his age on the streets, some he could tell had homes to go to and some he could tell did not. That gave Anthony a bit of hope, if they could live out here on their own so could he.

The sun was setting and Anthony realized he had no where to sleep. He wondered around for awhile until he came upon Central Park. A few times in Anthony's life his father had brought him there. Some very good memories were made from this park and now that was all Anthony had, memories. Anthony spotted the tall oak tree he used to play hide and seek behind, he walked over to it and say underneath it. Only the moon gave off light but Anthony pulled out his father's pocket watch and held it tightly he did not need to see it, just feeling it was good enough. Tears fell upon the watch, the realization that his father was never coming back was setting in hard. It had hurt so much when his mother died but losing his father, the man that taught him everything and raised him on his own, was even worse. Anthony cried himself into a deep needed sleep.

The city started to awaken and so did Anthony. He yawned and stretched, his sleep was not the best he had, had but it was not the worst. As he got up and walked around he noticed there were a lot of kids in the streets trying to sell newspapers. He remembered them at Sheepshead sometimes but had never seen this many at once. Anthony started to get hungry so he found a spot to sit down and eat the little food he had.

Anthony watched all the kids trying to sell their papers, they seemed to be making a fair amount of money, and then it hit him. Why should he just watch, why not do? Anthony walked around a little more he followed some of the newsies. He noticed that they lived in a lodging house and they were allowed to go where ever they wanted. They were as free as the fish in the sea, Anthony wanted that, to be able to go anywhere, do anything and not have anyone tell you otherwise.

A little blonde boy with glasses was selling papers not far from where Anthony was standing; he was about the same age, maybe a year younger or so. Anthony decided to act now; he approached the boy and tapped him on the shoulder. The boy turned around and smiled a little, he held out a newspaper but Anthony just looked at the boy.

"How do ya become a newsie?"

Anthony could tell the boy was a bit surprised that he asked this. He tucked the newspaper under his arm, "Dat's easy, ya jus' buy some papes from da distribution office den sell 'em to people. Da papes are half of what ya sell dem for."

"Dat's it?"

"Dat's it, so ya thinkin' about becomin' a newsie?"

"Yeah…so how do ya live in da lodgin' house?"

"Ya just go up to Kloppman an' ask to stay, ya put ya'r name in a book, an pay 'em five cents a week. Like I'se said easy I've been doin' it me whole life, da names Dutchy by da way." Dutchy spit in his hand and held it out.

"Anthony," he did the same, "So why Dutchy?"

Dutchy just smiled and started to walk, Anthony followed. "It's kinda late to be sellin' now so you should start tomorrow. How much money ya got?"

"About twelve bucks…"

"Twelve bucks!" Dutchy stopped dead in his tracks, "Why do ya wanna be a newsie ya'r rich!"

Anthony smiled, "Me dad won when he bet on a horse and gave me some, but…."Anthony trailed off and his smile faded, "It won't be here forever."

Dutchy started to walk again, "I guess dat's a good point, but since ya do got big bucks now, you should by me lunch."

"Alright but how bout a game a cards while we're at it?"

Anthony and Dutchy went into a restaurant called Tibby's. They ate until they were stuffed and played cards until it was dark. They talked about their lives and got along well. Anthony was happy he had made his first friend that was his age. This was the beginning of his new life. They walked out of Tibby's and went to the lodging house; Anthony met Kloppman and all the other newsies. Most of them were nice, Anthony loved it there, and he could not wait for tomorrow to come, his first day selling papes it would be great.

00000000

**AN: Woot! I finally updated. Thanks again to everyone who read, I really did miss you guys! Oh and something really funny that I noticed I did. This was all by accident but I made Spot be born in 1883 the same year New York made the Brooklyn Bridge open to the public. And Race was born in 1880 the same year Sheepshead Races was built, I found that pretty funny and convenient. Thanks again!**


	3. Secrets and Poker

**Thank you Smily94, spotlover, lilnewsie77, sketching recklessly, and NewsiesRacetrack88 for reviewing!**

0000000000

_**Normal POV**_

Anthony was woken up at the crack of dawn by the shouts of Kloppman. He was really tired but excited to start his day as a newsie. He forced himself up and into the bathroom, all the other boys were trying to get the sleep out of there eyes. He found Dutchy and left the lodging house with him, as Kloppman counted heads out the door. They walked to the distribution gates and waited in line with the other newsies.

"So ya ready to sell?"

Anthony looked at Dutchy, "Yeah, I just hope I'se can sell dem all."

"Ya might not ya'r first time, so I would only get fifty or so, if I was you."

"Okay"

Anthony and Dutchy walked up to the desk and got their papers. Dutchy got seventy-five and Anthony got fifty. Dutchy told him that was a good number to start out with since Anthony did not know how well he sold yet. He also told Anthony that the younger kids sell more, so he should not have a problem selling his papes. Anthony noticed the other newsies getting their papers, all of them got about a hundred.

"How long have ya been sellin' again?"

"A couple years I'se think…"

"So why do ya only get seventy-five instead of a hundred like everyone else? Ya said dat younger kids sell more."

Dutchy turned red a little and looked down. "Oh well I uh…I…" He grabbed Anthony's arm and dragged him away from the other newsies. "If I'se tell ya a secret do ya promise not to tell anyone?"

Anthony stared back at Dutchy confused but nodded, "Yeah I won't say a woird."

Looking around Dutchy whispered to Anthony, "I can't read…no one else knows, but I can't read da headlines so I don't know what da papes say. I haveta make everythin' up, or listen to what da other newsies say."

"Why are ya embarrassed by dat? Lots of kids can't read. I'll teach ya if ya want…"

Dutchy smiled, "Really you'd do dat?"

"Yeah we're friends right?"

"Yeah." Dutchy smiled and they both went off to sell there papers.

00000000000

The boys continued to sell for the rest of the day, Anthony did alright but not as well as he hoped he would. That was of course until he met Horace. Horace was an older kid about twelve years old, he was big for his age, and the kids that knew him were scared of him. He had a small gang of lackey's that rarely left his side. And Horace of course could never pass up the chance to torment those smaller than him. Anthony and Dutchy were walking down the street when Dutchy spotted Horace.

"Oh no…lets go anudder way." Dutchy started to walk back the way they came.

"Why, what's wrong?" Anthony was confused.

Dutchy turned back around, "See dat kid over dere?"

"Yeah, so what about 'em?"

"Dat's Horace, he's a real mean kid, if ya so much as look at 'em wrong he'll beat da hair off ya'r chest."

Anthony had never been afraid of other kids before, he spent most his life around adults, who only once scared him. If he could face his father being killed, he could face anything. "Good thing I'se don't got no hair on me chest then ain't it?" He continued to walk down the street, Dutchy protesting behind him.

As Dutchy thought, Horace stopped them on the side walk. "Hey blondie, looks like ya got ya'rself a new friend, no big kids to protect ya dis time?"

"Leave 'em alone ya big oaf."

Horace looked at small Anthony and laughed, "And what are ya gonna do about kid!?"

Anthony smirked, "How about we'se make a bet."

Horace looked intrigued, "What kind of bet?"

Anthony took his father's playing cards out of his pocket, "Poker, for all da money you and ya'r goons here got, if I'se win Dutchy and I here get da money…"

"And if I'se win?"

"Ya'll get our money and we'll let ya beat us black and blue."

Dutchy's eyes widened, "What are ya doin'?!"

Anthony shushed him, "Don't worry I know what I'm doin'."

Horace laughed, "Fine let's see if da baby can beat me."

They both spit shook and sat down out of people's way on the sidewalk. Anthony shuffled the cards and dealt them out. It came down to a very close game, Horace was sweating, while Anthony kept calm and cool. The last hand was about to be put on the table, the winner was to be revealed.

"So kid, how about ya fold and we'se just forget dis ever happened huh?"

Anthony smirked, "But we'se shook on it, a deal's a deal."

"Too bad ya'r gonna be cryin' when my friends an' I are beatin' ya to a bloody pulp." Horace put his cards down, a very good hand.

Anthony suddenly looked worried, "Oh no"

"A deal's a deal right we'se shook on it." Horace laughed hard, but stopped when Anthony smiled.

"Oh no, looks like all of ya lost ya'r money." Anthony put his cards on the ground, a full house.

"No! Dat's not fair ya cheated!"

Dutchy smiled, "How? We'se was all watchin' he won fair and square!" Angrily but willingly Horace and his gang handed their money over, Anthony and Dutchy gladly took it.

"I'se can't believe I got beat by a baby! Ya'r good kid, but I'd watch out if I were you."

"Yeah whatever ya say, see ya later Horace!" Anthony turned to Dutchy, "I'se told ya I knew what I was doin'"

"Don't let me doubt ya again, ya know you could make a career outta dat."

"Yeah we'll see, hey why don't I buy ya lunch."

The two smiling boys went off to Tibby's to have a very good meal, then headed back to the lodging house to rest and wait for the next long day of selling. Dutchy told all the boys about how Anthony beat Horace, soon all the boys wanted to try their luck at cards against Anthony, he won almost every time. By the end of the night Anthony felt like part of the newsie family.

0000000000

**AN: Wow that was a really cheesy ending…sorry about that and about my lack of poker knowledge, usually I would look something like that up but I did not feel like learning how to play and understand a whole game for a paragraph. And so so so sorry that this chapter took forever! I got writer's block and then did not write and I am so sorry! But hopefully it will not take as long next time...Oh and I own Horace. Thanks!!**


	4. Reading Lessons

**Thank you so much Smily94, snake-eyes-16-1884 (Like the new name), and NewsiesRacetrack88 for reviewing!**

**AN: So so so sorry this took forever again!!!**

0000000000

_**Normal POV**_

"If dat's the same letter den why does it look different?"

Anthony sighed, "We'se been through dis already dese are capital letters ya use dem at da beginnin' of a sentence, ya'r name or a place."

"Oh yeah..." Dutchy sighed, "I just can't get da hang of dis whole readin' thing, every time I look at da letters de're all jumpled up an' stuff."

"Dutchy I'se know you can learn dis, you just gotta try harder is all."

Anthony continued trying to teach Dutchy read for the next hour. They both had finished selling early so they thought it would be a good time to start learning. Dutchy was struggling more then Anthony anticipated, reading for him was pretty easy, it took a while to get the hang of but his first day went a lot smoother than this.

"Maybe we should call it a day." Anthony started putting away the scraps of paper they had out.

"I'm too dumb to learn dis stuff." Dutchy looked down to the floor and pushed up his glasses.

"Ya'r not dumb, just a slow learner is all. Ya'll get it I'se swear." Anthony smiled at the boy who returned a smile back. Anthony really hoped Dutchy would come around soon.

0000000000

The few days later Anthony and Dutchy bought their papers and headed out to sell. As they did Anthony tried to teach Dutchy things on the way. They looked at signs and other readable things, but Dutchy was barely able to make out what the letters were forming in to.

"I'se can't do dis Anthony! I'm never gonna get it!" Before Anthony could respond Dutchy was heading home.

As much as he did not want to admit it, Anthony agreed with Dutchy, it had been days since they started their lessons and he had barely gotten anywhere. But he was determined that as long as Dutchy wanted to learn Anthony would teach him how to read. As Anthony sold his last papers he walked around wondering the Manhattan streets. And then he came across a store, something inside him told him to go in, so Anthony did. He looked around the little shop and saw something, and what happened next was what some people now refer to as the last decent thing Anthony "Racetrack" Higgins really ever did, he bought a book for Dutchy. Out of the twelve dollars Anthony had from his dad, he had five left. The book cost three dollars, which was a lot so Anthony thought about it.

"_I'll just gamble it away anyways." _So on that thought Anthony bought the book for early learners to help Dutchy.

Anthony slowly continued wondering the streets. He got some food then headed back to the lodging house just as the sun was setting. It was a fine life he thought; hopefully it would stay that way for a while.

When Anthony got to the lodging house he went to the bunkroom to find Dutchy, who was laying down on his bed. He approached slowly and stood over the young boy. "I'se uh gotcha dis today, thought it might help. That is if ya still wanna learn."

Dutchy sat up surprised at the gift he was receiving, for a newsie gifts were rare and this was definitely a special one. "Thanks, I do wanna learn, I just think we'se can give it a little break, maybe I just gotta pick it up ya know? Maybe dis'll help me. Maybe you can just help me every now and den?"

Anthony smirked, "Yeah dat sounds good."

Dutchy took the book and looked through it. He could not help but smile, he actually understood some of the words in this book. He looked through it until the lights were all out, Dutchy slipped it under his pillow. What Anthony did not know was that Dutchy still had that book to this day, he kept it under his pillow and always looked at it from time to time.

After Anthony gave Dutchy the book he scanned the room for some lucky money losers. Anthony decided to spend the last two bucks he had on gambling. He still had what he was making from selling so even in the unlikely chance of a loss. he would be fine. After finding a couple of older boys Anthony sat down and played them in a few rounds of poker. The first round Anthony lost, but quickly made his money back in the next two rounds.

"Lights out!" Kloppman was yelling up the stairs to tell the boys it was time for bed.

Anthony made out with five cents more than he had a while before so he happily climbed into bed. As he listened to the silence Anthony decided to look at his father's pocket watch. Ten fifty-seven a time Anthony would never forget. I time that brought back bad memories. The watch itself though brought back good ones. He laid there for along time thinking about his old family and his new one. Anthony drifted into happy dreams about his past, present, and future.

0000000000

**AN: Wow I did not think I could write so happy! So Dutchy is dyslexic! Poor kid…I again apologize for the slow update, I try not to make excuses but I really have no clue what is going to happen with this story which is rare for me. As cheesy and slightly horrible as it was I hope you guys enjoyed this one. Thanks so much for reading!!!**


	5. Racetrack

**Thank you NewsiesRacetrack88 and ima-just-a-kid-in-1899 for reviewing!**

**AN: Wow I am really really really sorry that this story is taking so long! I realized I published it a year ago and this is only the fifth chapter! My New Year Resolution is to write everyday so hopefully updates will come more quickly! I know I deserve and angry mob, but please forgive me!**

0000000000

_**Normal POV**_

Anthony had been a newsie for a couple of months when he decided it was time to go to Sheepshead again. He was itching for a good bet. As a child his father used to take him every day, he missed the track so much it was all he started to think about. Anthony left the lodging house with Dutchy, he was still trying to learn to read and looked at the book Anthony bought him every night. Although he was not improving too much, he still tried.

"So where ya wanna go today?" Dutchy looked at Anthony waiting for a response.

"Uh, actually I thought I'd head ovah to Brooklyn."

Dutchy looked at Anthony weird, "Why what's in Brooklyn?"

"Evah hoird of Sheepshead Racetrack?" Anthony smiled remembering all the good times he had there.

"Da horse place?"

"Yeah, I'se figured I could sell a lotta papes, plus bet on a few horses."

"Anthony, dat ain't our territory, Brooklyn is bad news, ya really wanna try and sell ovah dere?"

"Hey I'm from Brooklyn! Besides if any dose Brooklyn boys wanna try and stop me, I'll just soak 'em….so ya wanna come?"

Dutchy laughed a little, "Ya'r crazy if ya think I'm gonna be caught in Brooklyn. See ya round." They parted separate ways. Race was finally going to go back to the place he loved most.

Anthony made it all the way to Sheepshead without any trouble from the Brooklyn boys. It was a long walk though and he would probably need to start hitching a ride, if he was going to come everyday like he planned. He could probably catch a ride on the news carts; they go through Brooklyn after Manhattan. Sheepshead was just how he remembered, the smells, the crowds, and all the excitement. This is what Anthony lived for. He tried to sell all of his papers as quickly as he could, so he could put some bets down on horses. Anthony stayed until the track closed; he won some and lost some, so he came out about even. When Anthony got back to the lodging house some of the boys asked we he had been, some were already asleep. Anthony had a pretty good day, but was getting pretty tired, Dutchy asked how the track was and Anthony told him all about the excitement.

For the rest of the week Anthony did the same routine, he would go to the track all day, and then come home late at night. Soon enough all the boys started calling him Racetrack. He liked that, after two months of being a newsie Anthony finally got his real name. Racetrack was something to be proud of too. Although Racetrack was happy about his new name; he was not happy about how much Dutchy and him had drifted. Dutchy was the reason he was a newsie and now he barely saw him.

000000000

Three years had gone by and Racetrack had learned his way as a newsie. At the age of eleven, Race was able fool the grown ups into buying more papers. From stuttering, to pretending to being sick, Racetrack was starting to get good at what he did. He tried to help Dutchy with reading whenever he could, but Dutchy was growing up too and started to have better things to do. He also started to hang out with another boy, named Snoddy. Snoddy came about five months ago and he and Dutchy seemed to become good friends. Racetrack like him pretty well except for the guys allergies, which is how he got his nickname. Race decided that getting his best friend back was a lost cause so he focused more on life instead.

It was Saturday afternoon and Racetrack had a pretty good day at the track. he left when he was ahead and decided to find some suckers to gamble with. He made his way to the Horace Greeley statue and looked around for someone to play. A few of the older boys were picking up their cards so Racetrack jumped in.

"Heya boys where ya going, tired of playin' cards?"

"Nah, just thought we'se head ovah to Midtown, dere's a big game tonight."

Race's ears perked at this, "Game? What sorta game are we talkin'?"

"Poker, but it ain't for kids." The boys started to walk away.

"How's about I roll ya for it double or nothin'," They boys stopped and turned around, looking amused, "If I win den ya take me along…fair?"

The boys looked at each other then nodded, "Fair."

They spit shook then Racetrack took the dice out of his pocket and threw them on the ground. Doubles, the boys sighed but agreed to take Race to the big poker game in Midtown. Finally he was going to get to play the big time, just like his father used to. By the time they reached the place, night was just starting to fall. A lot of boys from all over New York were there, Race was starting to wonder why he had just found out about this place. He was easily the youngest person there, which caused a lot of attention. After some convincing by the boys that took him there, Racetrack got into one of the poker games. There were little groups of boys all around playing different games, though the majority of the crowd not playing was standing by one table in particular.

"Why's everyone watchin' dem?" Racetrack eyed the boys carefully.

One of the boys playing Race answered, "Dat's mostly leadahs, it's more den just a game when dey play, it's almost like war. See the blonde guy? Dat's Sour he's da leadah of Brooklyn, him and Iggy, the Queens leadah have dis rival thing goin' on between dem. Two toughest buroughs," Now that was where Racetrack wanted to be, playing at that table with the leaders of New York. That was something about playing cards, a clean game of cards, that no matter how much you hated someone you could always put your differences aside for a good game.

Racetrack did pretty well for his first time at the Midtown poker game. He planned on coming back every week and learning how to get better at poker. Although he did not win any of the games, he got very close most of the time. Racetrack was starting to gain respect from the other boys. They told him he had good potential, he was definitely climbing his way up in the world.

00000000

**AN: I really can't apologize enough to you guys, I feel so bad for taking forever on this story I do not know what is wrong with me! Well I hope you all liked it and if anyone is still reading then feel free to let me know what you want out of this story, I hope to update sooner, I am starting to get some ideas for this one! Thanks again for reading!!!**


	6. Familar Faces

**Thank you newsie dork from D.U.M.B.O. (Could you send me the link to the newspaper archives? That would be awesome to read! I love your name by the way!) Sum1 (Do not worry all the newsies are coming!) and NewsiesRacetrack88 for reviewing!!!**

**AN: Glad I am still getting reviews! **

0000000000

_**Normal POV**_

Racetrack continued to go to the Midtown poker games every week, after a few months he started to win. A few months after that the boys at the games wanted to play him. He was becoming a big time gambler in the eyes of other newsies. Race had learned many things, how to gamble better, lie well, and smoke.

Every day was the same routine for Racetrack and during those days he watched newsies come and go. Many of the older boys that Race knew when he got there were gone; mostly the younger kids were left now and a few of the older ones. A new kid had shown up last week, he was a very skittish boy which gave him his name. Race could not figure Skittery out; he called him glum and dumb because the kid always saw the worst in everything. He was horrible to play cards with, because when he lost he got into a mood. Skittery seemed like he had been through a lot before coming to the lodging house, but like most the boys he never talked about his past. At times though Skittery could be in a good mood and then he was really fun to be around. Race and the others became pretty good friends with him.

Race was starting to get into any scam or bet he could get his hands on. It turned into a compulsion, trying to bet on everything whenever he could. This was just how Racetrack was now. He learned how to scam people more, especially Weasel, he got his way around hot tips and used them as bribes. Racetrack always tried to stay to his word though, if he owed Weasel money he would get it to him in time.

Soon enough Racetrack could not wait to get to Midtown every Saturday. His fingers started to itch in anticipation. He noticed that every week a few more kids would show up, he was no longer the youngest there. He met a few good friends there; one kid called South started coming every week too. He and Race got along very well; the boy was from Tennessee and lived with his mother in a small apartment near Manhattan. South loved gambling as well and sold papers after school.

"So South, ya evah been to Sheepshead?"

"Da horse track? No, always wanted to though."

"You'se should come with me sometime, pretty good business."

"Yeah okay, that'd be great, but it'd have to be on Saturday, I'se got school ya know."

"Aw, who needs school?" The other boys started to make fun of South for going to school every day. He got that a lot, but the truth was all the other boys envied South for having a family and education.

Another boy started coming to Midtown, he was about two years younger than Race. The Brooklyn leader Sour would bring him sometimes, Spot was his name, and he had not been a newsie for very long. He was pretty good at poker and gave Race a run for his money more than once. Race started to become decent friends with Spot, he only saw him in Midtown, but he was a good competitor. Except for that annoying smirk he had when he was winning, Racetrack hated that.

"So what's dat key for?" Race was staring at the key around Spot's neck.

Spot glared at Racetrack with his icy blue eyes, he did not say anything for a long time, "A closet."

Racetrack figured Spot did not want to really tell him, so he just shrugged it off and put his cards down. "Yes! Come on, pay up boys!" Race won again; in his excitement he grabbed a cigar from the kid next to him. He was starting to feel like he was on top now; everything was going great in Racetracks life.

0000000000

A few months had passed and Racetrack had a solid routine, he would wake up every morning with all the newsies, get his papes, and a catch a ride into Brooklyn so he could go to Sheepshead. Usually he would stay there until they closed then head back to the lodging house to sleep and wake up to do it all over again. He also had not missed a Midtown game yet.

One afternoon, Racetrack was at Sheepshead having a great time betting on horses after he sold all of his papes. One of the horses Race had bet on had done very well, so he went to collect his winnings. Racetrack starting to walk toward the window, when he stopped dead in his tracks. There, standing not three feet away, was the man who killed his father. He had gotten older of course, but Race would never forget that face. The man saw Race staring and started to stare back. They both stared at each other for almost a minute when in a state of panic, Racetrack ran as fast as he could out of Sheepshead.

He did not care about his winnings or staying to bet on other horses, all Ractrack cared about was getting far away from there. He ran as fast as he could to the lodging house, not sure if he had stopped at all. When he got there, no one was around; Race went to his bunk and sat trying to catch his breath. He took out his father's pocket watch and held it, not allowing him self to get upset as all the memories flooded back in.

"Everythin' okay?"

Race's head shot up to see Dutchy standing in the door frame, Race did not notice Dutchy come in, "Yeah, I jus…" Dutchy walked over and sat next to Racetrack. "I saw da guy dat stabbed my Fadder today." Dutchy's eyes widened. Race had told him about his father a long time ago, but Dutchy remembered the story well. "We both jus froze an' stared at each odder, den I ran. God I'm such a wimp! I'se shouldah soaked 'em!"

"Anyone wouldah ran from dat. Are ya gonna go back to Sheepshead again?"

Race looked at Dutchy, "I dunno." That was all he said for the rest of the night, it was Saturday and for the first time in weeks, Racetrack missed the Midtown poker game. He could not sleep very well that night and thought deeply on what he should do next.

00000000000

**AN: Sorry this took awhile again! I am really trying to update more; I am having trouble coming up with stuff for this story…so if any of you have some ideas that would be awesome! I am slowly throwing the characters in here and Specs should show up in the next chapter, Jack will be coming soon and I have some good ideas for that. Anyway thanks soooo much for reading and reviewing. I will try to get back to the swing of things! **


	7. Weasels

**Thank you NewsiesRacetrack88 for reviewing! **

00000000

_**Normal POV**_

Racetrack could not get the image of his father's murderer out of his head. He could not believe he saw him and that he actually had the nerve to show his face in Brooklyn again. For most of the day on Sunday, Race weighed his options. He stared at his pocket watch for hours trying to decide whether or not to go back to Sheepshead. Finally Racetrack decided that he did not want to live his life in memories, he had to move on and he loved the track. He remembered what it was like to be at Sheepshead everyday and Race could never live like that. If he ever ran into his father's murderer again he would soak him, maybe even kill him for what he did. Racetrack put the watch back in his pocket and joined the other boys in a game of poker.

000000000

Everyday Racetrack went to Sheepshead and not once did he see his father's murderer. He was fourteen now and had learned a lot about being a newsie, most importantly though, he learned how to fight. Racetrack did not like to fight unless he had to, but when it was necessary it was a good skill to have. One skill that Racetrack also had was to talk and gamble his way out of just about anything. This came in handy a lot.

On a hot summer day, most of the newsies had finished selling. Racetrack and his new friend Kid Blink were walking down the street. Blink had shown up a few months ago, he had been living on the streets for a while and was looking for work. He became part of the newsies group very quickly. Racetrack has asked about his missing eye on many occasions, but Blink would never give much detail, he just told them all it was an accident. They were walking when they heard yelling coming out of an alley. The boys looked at each other and cautiously approached the source of the screams. In the alley there were two boys beating up another boy. One boy had brass knuckles on and was hitting him while the other boy was kicking him; the kid never had a chance.

Racetrack and Blink hated seeing unfair fights, especially when it looked like the person getting the beating did not deserve it. Blink yelled to the boys, "Hey! What'd he do?"

The one with the brass knuckles stopped hitting the boy, "Da freak looked at us funny so we're teachin' him a lesson."

The other boy looked at Race and Blink, "Why don't ya just beat it, we'se can take care of dis on our own."

Race glared at the boys, they looked familiar, "Hey wait a sec, I know you'se. Ya'r Weasel's nephews ain't ya?"

"Hey look Morris, we'se famous! Maybe we should teach dese clowns a lesson too huh?"

Morris smiled, "Yeah, no one messes with da Delancey brothers."

Blink looked at Race then at Oscar and Morris, "Scabs." He clenched his fisted ready to fight, but Race put a hand on his chest holding him back.

"Hey wait just a minute okay, I'se gotta better idea. How's about we roll for it?" Race took the Dice out of his pocket, "Double or nothin', we win you'se leave, you win we'se fight."

Blink gave Racetrack a strange look, but then Oscar replied, "Yeah alright, might as well give ya boys some chance at gettin' outta here." They spit shook on it.

Race rolled first and got double down, luck was definitely on his side. Oscar and Morris almost started a fight, but pushed through Race and Blink instead. Race and Blink rushed over to the boy on the ground, he was beat up pretty bad, but they had both seen worse.

The boy was squinting at Race and Blink, "Thanks, uhh my glasses fell off."

"Oh," Racetrack glanced around until he saw something reflect in the sun, "Here, dey look a little bent, but not broken."

"Thanks, I'm Elliot by da way."

"I'm Racetrack and dat's Kid Blink, come on will get ya cleaned up."

They helped Elliot up and headed back to the lodging house. He got hit in the face pretty good by Morris, but seemed to block most of the blows. After they washed the blood off his face he did not look too bad, a couple good bruises, but they would heal.

Racetrack handed Elliot a towel to dry his face off with, "So how long ya been in 'Hattan?"

"Not long, I lived in Coney Island, but…" He looked down at the floor, "Just thought I'd pass through. So uh ya gotta extra bunk 'round here?"

"Yeah, dere's plenty of room, ever sell papes before?"

"No, how hard can it be though?"

Blink looked at him, "Depends, can ya read?" Elliot nodded, "Should be less hard den."

Race smiled, "Just make sure ya stay clear of those Delancey goons."

The next day Blink and Race showed Elliot the ways of being a newsie. Elliot did not intend on staying in Manhattan, but he started feel at home with the newsies. He was not half bad at selling and had made a lot of friends. Soon enough everyone was calling him Specs, at first he hated it, but he quickly learned to love it. Elliot was a person of the past now, his old life behind him.

The Delancey brothers still picked on Specs as well as the other newsies, but they all stuck together as a family. The Delancey's rarely tried to corner someone like they did to Specs when he first got there. He really enjoyed being a newsie and went with Racetrack to Sheepshead a few times. He went to the Midtown once or twice, but was not the best at poker. He became good friends with Swifty, who showed up not long after he did.

0000000000

**AN: Thanks so much for reading! Sorry the ending of this chapter was really bad, I could not think of a proper ending for it. If I can think of a good chapter to do next I will, but if not then I'm skipping ahead to where Jack comes in. Again if anyone has any ideas at all for this story I would really love to hear them! Anything at all…**


	8. Crazy Eights

**Thank you newsie dork from D.U.M.B.O. for reviewing chapter six and Jealous! Those articles are awesome thank you so much for telling me how to find them! **

000000000

_**Normal POV**_

Time had flown by since that day Racetrack and Blink saved Specs in the alley. Race continued to move up in the world and soon he would meet some very important people. Almost a year had passed and Race wanted in on bigger things in the gambling world, so he decided Midtown would be a perfect place to start.

Racetrack went alone and took his usual seat with Spot and some other boys from around town. He did notice however that all the Queens boys were not there and neither was the Brooklyn leader, Race thought he had heard something about them having more feuds. Spot had that goofy smirk on his face the whole night and it took Racetrack a while to figure out why.

"New toy Spot?" Race was referring the black cane with gold tips secured in Spots suspenders.

"Ya like it? Got it off Grim, our old second in command, turned out to be a traitor. Now dis beauty is mine and I'se got a new title 'round here."

"Well dat's real great Spot, but uh I think dat new title and cane is gettin' to ya'r head, because I just beat ya in cards."

Race laughed and Spot glared, but the game continued late into the night. Race's table had all had enough and they were ready to head home, but Race was far from ready to quite. He was having a hot streak most of the night and wanted to challenge some of the big boys at cards. Getting up, Race put a cigar in his mouth and arrogantly made his way over to the table. The first chance he got to butt in on the game he took.

Sitting down at the table, Race noticed a lot of the faces there. Both Midtown and Harlem leaders were there, along with Crazy Eights. Crazy Eights was an ex-Brooklyn Newsie who was part of almost every big gamble in New York. Racetrack looked up to him as what he wanted to be someday. Race had played through the two leaders and now it was him against Crazy Eights. On the outside he was calm, but inside he was freaking out; if he could beat Crazy Eights at poker he would forever live as the kid that did that.

"Damn kid, ya'r pretty good, but not good enough." Crazy Eights had a toothy grin and put down the winning cards. Race grunted at threw his cards on the table; he had lost most of his money. "I like ya kid, what's ya'r name?"

"Racetrack," he smiled.

Crazy Eights laughed a little, "Good, you should do some business with me sometime, dere's good money in the gamblin' world, but I'se think ya already know dat." He got up and walked up to Race, "I'll keep in touch kid." He hit him on the hat and walked away.

Racetrack could not stop smiling for the rest of the night. He was finally getting the connections he wanted. When Crazy Eights did not show up for poker the next Saturday, Racetrack was beginning to get worried that he was going to pull out. Maybe he had too much drink that night and does not even remember telling Race of his future plans for him. A week later Racetrack had completely given up hope, until a couple of guys approached him at Sheepshead.

"Racetrack right?"

"Yeah."

One of the guys handed Racetrack a piece of paper with two addresses written on it. "Crazy Eights wants ya to make a delivery, pick it up here, den drop it off dere."

"Dat's it?" Racetrack hid his excitement, but was jumping inside.

"Yeah, don't screw it up." With that they walked away.

Race looked at the address, it was not too far by. He was so excited he quickly left Sheepshead to go pick up the delivery. He approached an apartment building crowded with people and headed up three flights of stairs. He found door C26 and knocked. Racetrack was starting to get a little nervous; he had no idea what to expect.

"What?" A voice came from behind the door.

Racetrack cleared his throat, "I'm here to pick up a delivery, I woik for Crazy Eights."

A few seconds later the door opened and a man about the age of twenty-five stood in front of Race. "Ya got here qucker den I thought ya would." He stepped aside to let Racetrack in. Inside there were a few guys playing cards at a table, they all glanced up at Racetrack. "Here." The man, whose name Racetrack never found out except for the letter D , handed him a piece of paper and a pencil.

Confused, Racetrack took the paper and pencil, _"Dis can't be it can it?"_ Racetrack waited a moment and then the men started to give him numbers. They were placing bets and Racetrack had become the go between. Racetrack had no clue what the bets were for, but he took them down regardless. They gave him the bets, what they were betting on, and a letter to refer to each of their names. After Racetrack had gotten all the bets down D. opened to door to show him out. Outside Racetrack put the bets in his pocket and headed to the next address. It was in Midtown so it took a while to get there.

The place was a little hard to find because it was a door in an ally. One guy was standing on the other side of it. "_Dis must be where some of da underground stuff goes on_." Racetrack realized they were using him to do all the illegal stuff just in case he got caught. He did not know anything and would be the one taking the bets, not the big guys. That's why he was not told their names or what they were betting on. Racetrack knew though that if he wanted to be where Crazy Eights was, he had to do this. The guy on the other side of the door let Racetrack in and took him to a room. In the room was one of Crazy Eight's main guys, he took the bets from Racetrack and read them over.

"Good woirk…here." He handed Racetrack a few dollars.

Racetrack smiled and nodded then headed out. This is what he would be doing for the next several months, making deliveries back and forth. He earned more than selling papers, but still stayed at the lodging house. Some of the boys there started to notice Race's absence from the distribution center, but most of them did not say much. Racetrack would keep this going for as long as he could, that was of course until he met Jack Kelly.

0000000000

**AN: Thanks for reading! Sorry this took a long time to get out, but I have been really busy. The next chapter should not take as long to write because I actually have it planned haha. I hope you like where I'm going with this. Also for those of you who read Spot's Story this story is connected straight to it. Almost all of my Characters from that will make appearances in here! **


	9. Karma

**Thank you so much newsie dork from D.U.M.B.O. for reviewing! It is always highly appreciated! **

00000000

_**Normal POV**_

Racetrack had been working for Crazy Eights for a few months and loved every minute of it. But as the time went on, Race's jobs got more demanding. He was gaining the trust of Crazy and his gang as well as the respect from other people in New York. For Racetrack though, having so much responsibility was sometimes too much; like anyone Race could get greedy. On rare occasions when Race took bets, he would take some the winnings for himself. He never took a lot, but it was still risky to do.

Trying to balance his gambling life with selling papers became noticeable to all the newsies. They began to get angry with Racetrack because he was not selling, but still called himself a newsie. In the gambling world Racetrack was respected, but in the newsie world Racetrack was ignored. Dutchy barely talked to him now, he would give that friendly sympathetic smile when he was around Racetrack, but did not dare go talk to him when other newsies were around. Race felt like he was living two separate lives, one: the ignored outcast _newsie_ and the other: a soon to be top worker of Crazy Eights, a very respected man in Brooklyn. But if living in New York taught a person anything it was that good things did not last long. Racetrack would find that out very soon.

One day Racetrack was walking home from Sheepshead. He was only a few blocks away from the lodging house when someone grabbed him and threw him in an alley. Racetrack thought he was getting mugged, which was odd because he obviously did not have anything worth taking. There were two guys pushing him up against a wall, both a little taller than him, but not much older. It was dark so Racetrack could not make out the details of their faces, he thought maybe it was the Delancy brothers, but attacks in the middle of the night did not seem their style. One guy had a hat on and the other one had a vest.

"Ya think ya could get away with somethin' like dis and it go unnoticed?" The one with the hat spoke pushing his hand harder against Race's chest.

"What?" Racetrack was confused now, who were these guys and what were they talking about?

"Don' play dumb with us! Ya've been playin' Crazy Eitghts and he don' like it!" The one with the vest on was speaking how, pointing his finger in Race's face.

Of course, these guys worked for Crazy Eights. Racetrack should have known; how could he think he would actually get away with scamming Crazy Eights? He should have never taken that money! But none of that mattered now, Racetrack had gotten caught and now he had to think of a way out of it all.

"Guys, come on! I'm sure dere's a way we'se could settle dis! We'se could play for me freedom huh? How's dat sound?"

The two guys shook their heads, then the one wearing the hat spoke, "You'se really think ya can gamble ya'r way outta dis?" He looked down and noticed Race's pocket watch gleaming in the moonlight. "But maybe we'se can come to some sorta agreement, we'se could convince Crazy dat ya screwed up, it was just an accident."

Racetrack was surprised to hear this; he began to get excited, but then he saw what the guy was looking at. "Oh no, no way!"

"Ya'r gonna give us dat watch." The guy in the hat stared at Racetrack.

"It doesn't even woirk!"

"Den ya won't mind givin' it up." The guy in the vest cracked his knuckles.

The guy with the hat reached for the pocket watch; Racetrack could feel the anger bubble inside him, he pushed the guy as hard as he could. He was then welcomed with a punch in the face by the other guy. It did not take long for Racetrack to fall to the ground, the odds were against him. He tried to block as many punches and kicks as he could, but they were still coming strong. Racetrack kicked the guy in the vest hard in the ankle causing him to fall. This led to the guy in the hat giving Race a swift kick to the ribcage. Even though Racetrack was getting worked over hard, he managed to hold onto his father's pocket watch tightly. He knew it was stupid not to make the deal and give it up, but it was all he had left; he could not just give it way like that. The two guys started to lift Racetrack up to drag him to Crazy Eights, but then they heard a voice at the end of the alley.

"Hey! Leave 'em alone!"

Racetrack looked at the source of the voice. He was standing in the light so Race could see him clearly. He looked a bit younger than Race; he had blond hair, a black vest, a red bandana, and what looked like a cowboy hat. The guy kind of looked ridiculous out there in the street, but if he was going to help Racetrack out, he did not mind.

The boy ran up to the guys and immediately punched the guy with the hat in the face. Racetrack was able to gain his balance and punched the other one. Now the fight was even, the boy with the cowboy getup was a pretty good fighter; he head butted the guy with the hat knocking him to the ground. Racetrack threw the guy with the vest into a wall. They both scurried up and started to run out of the alley.

"Crazy Eights will get ya for dis Race!"

"Don't think ya'r getting' off dis easy!"

Both guys ran out of sight and Racetrack took in a sigh of relief. He knew he would have to deal with Crazy Eights later, but for the time being he was safe. For the moment he had gotten off easy, the guys gave him a black eye, a bloody nose, bruised ribs, and a few other minor cuts and bruises. But considering Crazy Eights has his name for a reason, Racetrack was lucky. He wiped off his brow and walked with his savior to the end of the alley, into the light. They were both out of breath and took a minute to catch up with themselves. Finally Racetrack was able to speak.

"Thanks for dat, I'se owe ya one."

The boy shook his head, "Don' mention it."

"Da names Racetrack," Race spit in his hand and held it out.

"Fran….Jack, Jack Kelly, but a lot a people call me Cowboy." He spit in his hand and shook Racetrack's.

"Really? Never woulda guessed." Race smiled, "So uh where ya headed?"

"Dunno, wherever I can I guess."

Racetrack nodded, "If ya want you can come with me, I'se stay at the newsboys lodging house." Racetrack hoped the boys would welcome him and his guest without much trouble. He had a lot of making up to do with the newsies.

"A newsie huh? I could live with dat."

They began to walk; Racetrack looked over at Jack, "So where'd ya come from anyway?"

Jack looked up at the stars, "Ya ever hoird of Teddy Roosevelt?"

0000000000

**AN: Woo! Jack saved the day! The next chapter will probably connect to Spot's Story a little bit, you don't have to read it to get it or anything, but if you want to check it out feel free! Thanks everyone for reading!**


	10. Spot

**Thank you NewsiesRacetrack88, newsie dork from D.U.M.B.O., and NewsiesSpot88 for reviewing! You guys rock! **

0000000000

_**Normal POV**_

Racetrack and Jack got to the lodging house pretty late. Racetrack was still worried that the boys would not welcome them, but he hoped he could gain some sympathy. After introducing Jack to Kloppman, he and Racetrack headed upstairs. In the bunk room most of the boys were still awake. They all gave Race a glare when he walked in, but looked at Jack with curiosity.

Dutchy looked up from the card game he was playing, "What happened to ya?"

"Uh, some of my associates decided dey didn't like me too much anymore. But Cowboy here gave me a hand with dem."

Jack looked at the group of boys and gave them a small wave and smile, "Hey." They nodded in return, welcoming Jack into the group.

Racetrack could feel that the others still did not except him. They knew there was a reason he got jumped. Race was planning on trying hard to make up his past behavior to everyone; he missed the newsie life. After Jack got settled in, Race made his way to the bathroom to take a look at the damage made by those goons. His face was bruised and he had a busted lip, Racetrack began to wash his face. He was drying it off when Dutchy came in.

"Ya really screwed up ya know dat?" Dutchy was one of the only people that could see through Race's lies. Or at least cared enough to notice them.

Racetrack sighed, "Yeah, I know."

"So are things over with dis Crazy Eights guy?"

"Doubtful."

Dutchy nodded, "I'm glad ya'r back Race…sorry things didn't woirk out da way ya wanted."

After Racetrack finished cleaning himself up, he was ready for bed. Tomorrow he would start selling again, but decided not to go to Sheepshead. He offered to stick with Jack to show him some good selling spots.

0000000000

It had been about a week since Jack had saved Racetrack. Jack fit in very well with all the newsies and only had a few problems with some of them. Some boys made fun of Jack's dream to go to Santa Fe, but Jack ignored them. Racetrack was starting to get welcomed back in with the newsies. He only went to Sheepshead once that week, in fear of Crazy Eights' guys coming back and so the other newsies would see him selling. He also skipped the Midtown game that week. Race desperately wanted to get out and have some excitement, so when some interesting news hit Manhattan Race jumped at the chance to investigate.

All the boys were at the Horace Greeley statue when Kid Blink came running up. "Hey, ya guys here about Brooklyn?"

Race's ears perked up, "No, what about Brooklyn?"

"Dere's been woird dat Sour left and Spot took ovah."

Jack stood up from where he was leaning, "Who's Sour?"

Racetrack looked over at Jack, "He's da Brooklyn leadah, or at least e' was. But dere's no way Spot took ovah, dat's crazy."

Blink nodded, "Dat's what I say. I mean most people barely even know da guy. Sure e's Sour's second, but I don't think e's leadah. Plus Queens has been eyein' Brooklyn forevah."

A smile appeared on Racetrack's face, "Well boys dere's only one way to settle dis."

Jack nodded and smiled too, "I'se think it's time to take a little trip to Brooklyn."

They decided to leave right then. The weather was cool, but the sun was shining. As they made their way to Brooklyn, Racetrack thought about what Brooklyn would be like in the future with Spot as leader. The kid was a smart ass most of the time and he could fight, but was he really leader material? Race liked the way Manhattan did it, they acted as a group, but they also did not have the problem of other burrows gaining up on them that often. For some reason Queens really wanted Brooklyn's territory, it was a long running feud that would probably never end. Once Racetrack, Blink, and Jack reached the Brooklyn Bridge they stopped to stare at the water.

Jack sighed, "Ya ever wonder how high up dis is?"

Blink and Racetrack look at each other then laughed. They noticed the laugh echoed. Blink thought for a moment then leaned over the railing of the bridge.

Racetrack put his hand on Blink's shoulder, "Whoa what are ya doin'?"

Blink gave a big smile, "I got an idea," and then he screamed as loud as he could off the side of the Brooklyn Bridge. Jack and Racetrack looked around a little embarrassed. Everyone was staring at them now, but then Blink stood up laughing hysterically. "Ya guys gotta try dis."

They both sighed, but screaming off the giant bridge did seem like fun. So all three boys leaned over the bridge and screamed as loud as they could off of it. Screaming was even more fun then it looked, Race would have to remember to do that more often. They made their way off the bridge and to the Brooklyn lodging house.

The Brooklyn lodging house was more worn down than Manhattan's. The Brooklyn newsies had obtained it on their own a long time ago, so they did not have a Kloppman type like Manhattan did. The lodging house was pretty dark on the outside, one of those buildings you had to know where it was to find it. They approached the door and knocked. The door opened by Sneaks a newsie that Racetrack had seen a few time during the Midtown games. He and Spot were best friends, so if anyone knew about him becoming leader it would be Sneaks.

Racetrack and the others looked in the room; all the boys were glaring at them like they were the enemy. "Heya Sneaks…ders been talk 'round dat Sour's left and dat Spot took ovah. We'se was jus' wonderin' if it was all true…"

Sneaks stood there for a moment and glared at them until finally he stepped out of the way, "See foah ya'rself."

They took a step in and immediately Race knew. There was Spot sitting at the end of the table, the seat only fit for the leader. He glanced around and saw that Sour was no where to be seen. Racetrack looked at Jack and Blink and nodded, confirming Spot was leader now.

Racetrack smiled and looked at Spot, "I'se can't believe it, you'se actually leadah now." Race laughed, but when Spot did not he could tell he was changed.

Spot glared into Racetrack's eyes, "Yeah I'se leadah now, so you'se gotta respect me now Racetrack, 'cause if ya evah cross me, I'll soak ya all da way back to 'Hattan. Now who're dey." Spot's tone was deep and threatening, not at all like the last time they had spoke.

"Uhh, dis is Kid Blink, and Cowboy or Jack Kelly."

Spot looked down at the key around his neck, and then mumbled something about Jack. Spot seemed to be in a daze for a moment until a confused Jack spoke.

"Whadya say?"

Spot completely ignored Jack, "So's do ya guys finally 'ave a leadah?"

Jack looked at Spot still wondering what he had said, "Nah we'se don' really see a poipus foah one. We'se usually jus' act as a group ya know."

"Shoah, so's Jacky-boy…an' group…I'se wanna know where we'se stand."

Racetrack did not think Spot could get more arrogant than he already was, but that was quickly proven wrong. "Whada ya mean Spot?"

"A lotta people think Brooklyn is up foah grabs now just because Sour's gone. So are we still good, or a ya gonna try and take ovah like some of da othah burrows?"

Jack looked at Race and Blink then back at Spot. "We'se wouldn't 'ave came 'ere if we'se were plannin' somethin'. We'se jus' wanted ta see foah ourselves is all."

Spot stood up and walked over to Jack; he spit in his hand and held it out. "Well okay den."

Jack returned the jester and after about a minute of silence Jack spoke up again, "Well I'se think it's 'bout time we'se got back, takes awhile ta walk."

Jack and Blink walked out the door, but Racetrack stayed behind. "Heya Spot, now dat ya'r leadah an all, ya think ya could do me a favah?"

Spot crossed his arms, "Race, I've only been leadah foah a day an' ya'r already askin' foah favahs?"

"Well da thing is I kinda got mixed up with Crazy Eights an' now 'e's kinda lookin' to get back at me. So seein' how 'e used to be a newise, maybe ya could talk to 'em."

"Crazy Eights ain't a newise no more, 'e can do whatevah 'e wants now. Whatevah ya got ya'rself into is ya'r problem now, not mine. If ya screwed up den ya screwed up and shoulda thought before ya did it Race. Ya'r on ya'r own."

Spot did not say any of it nicely, or even try to help Race out. He was completely on his own with Crazy Eights. Racetrack left the lodging house and caught up with Jack and Blink. Race looked at the boys, "Dat was weird."

Blink looked at Race, "What does 'e usually offah ya tea an' cookies?"

"Nah stupid, 'e jus' seemed…well dey all seemed meaner dan usual. Last time I'se saw Spot we'se were playin' poker an' everyone seemed ta be havin' a good time. Dats usually how dey are. 'E jus' seems like 'e's changed."

Jack looked at him, "Maybe 'e has."

"Yeah I guess so."

Jack smiled at Race, "Ya know I'se think tomorrow we'se could use a change in scene. Take our minds off things."

Racetrack looked at Jack a little confused, but did not question the boy. Whatever Jack had planned it had to be better than seeing the new Brooklyn boys.

000000000

**AN: That chapter was longer than expected (that makes up for the lateness I hope) and kinda random too, but I wanted to connect this to Spot's Story a little. Not all the character stories will be connected this one just works out that way! For those of you that did read Spot's Story sorry if this was a little déjà vuey at the end, I tried to change it up and make it the Manhattan boys POV instead of Spot's. Thanks for reading everyone! Can anyone guess what Jack has in store for Race? **


	11. Medda

**Thank you newsie dork from D.U.M.B.O and ThePen23 for reviewing!**

000000000

_**Normal POV**_

After selling their papers, Jack led Racetrack through the town. He refused to tell Race where they were heading; just that he would thank him after they got there. Racetrack's curiosity was killing him and Jack was not making it any better; he was dragging out the walk as long as he could for self amusement.

"Cowboy, we've been by dis street twice now. Come on already, are we actually goin' anywhere, or are ya just pullin' my leg?"

Jack stopped and put his hand up, "Hey! Did I'se say we were goin' somewhere or not? Now just trust me, ya'r gonna love it." He continued to walk.

"I'd love it more if I knew where we'se were goin'!" Racetrack sighed and caught up to Jack.

Jack smiled, "Relax Race, we're here."

An annoyed Racetrack looked around. They were in front of a building. Jack began to walk into a side door and Race followed; on the way in he noticed a sign that said Irving Hall. Racetrack had been around a while and had probably passed by Irving Hall several times, but never paid any attention to it until now. The only people he thought went in there were people who could afford to. Racetrack shut the door behind him and realized that they were in the backstage of the theatre. Race was about to question him, but Jack put a finger on his lips motioning Race to be quiet. Jack led the way to a hallway and a staircase. After climbing the stairs Race realized that they were in the balcony on the side of the stage.

"Cowboy we're gonna get da bulls called on us, if we'se stay 'ere."

Jack smiled, "I've been comin' here for years, don't worry about it. Medda's a friend of me father's."

Race looked at him confused, "Who?"

The goofy grin got bigger on Jacks face. His eyes were glued to the stage and he nodded toward the stage for Racetrack to look. Racetrack's eyes widened as a woman in a frilly blue dress walked out. Racetrack's mouth dropped, she was the most beautiful woman he had every seen. She began to sing, and Racetrack swore he fell in love. The crowd was going crazy for her. When Medda had finished singing she left the stage and Jack tugged on Race's sleeve.

"Come on."

Racetrack reluctantly followed Jack; he did not want to leave. But instead of going out the door, Jack walked behind the stage. Racetrack had learned by now not to question what Jack did, but to go along with it. They walked across to the other side of the stage and into a small hallway. Jack walked to a door with the name Medda on it. Racetrack felt like his heart was going to explode; there was no way Jack actually knew that woman. Jack knocked on the door, and the red headed beauty opened.

Medda's face lit up when she saw Jack at the door, "Francis?"

Jack shot a quick look to Race who seemed to be lost in Medda at the time, a close call, "Actually its Jack Kelly now."

Medda continued to smile, "Well Jack Kelly, don't stay standing out there come in, come in."

Jack and Race entered the room. The walls were painted a pale pink and it smelled like flowers. Racetrack was still recovering from the shock of seeing Medda face to face. There was a ridiculous smile on his face the entire time they were there.

"Medda I'd like ya to meet me friend Racetrack Higgins."

"Nice to meet you," She held out her hand and Racetrack shook it.

"Hey," He almost forgot to let of her hand.

Medda turned to Jack, "I haven't seen you around kid, where ya been?" She ruffled Jacks hair.

"Had a little problem a while back dat left me indisposed for a while."

"Well I'm glad to see you back, you and your friends are welcome here anytime."

"Thanks Medda, well we best be goin',"

Race quickly looked at Jack and put his hand out to stop him, "Hey, hey, what's da rush? A little longer won't hurt nobody."

Jack laughed a little, "I suppose not, if Medda's alright with it of course."

"Of course." She gave a gingerly smile and sat down on a small love seat up against the wall.

It seemed impossible, but Racetrack's smile widened. He and Jack stayed at Medda's until night fall. Racetrack unenthusiastically left. He had made a new friend in Medda and got over her beauty enough to be civil when speaking to her. Many newsies would go see Medda sing and eventually they all grew to know her and all the other workers at Irving Hall.

As Racetrack and Jack walked back to the lodging house they realized the temperature had dropped considerably since that morning. Winter was coming and it felt like it would be a bad one. The snow would start coming soon which meant trying to keep warm while selling papers. Most of the boys did not have very warm of clothes and only a few had gloves. Winter was always harsh in New York, but as always they would tough it out.

When the two boys returned to the lodging house Racetrack told all the boys of Medda and how beautiful she was.

"Ya shoulda seen her! Voice of an angel." The boys smiled as Racetrack talked about his meeting with Medda, most of the conversation got exaggerated along the way, like Medda blowing a kiss to him on stage, but regardless Racetrack told a great tale to his fellow newsies. Almost every boy dreamed of Medda that night, imagining what she looked and sounded like.

00000000

**AN:** **Sorry again for the wait, like I said I am just making this up as I go…any input would be gladly appreciated! I feel like I am failing a bit on this story, but I will still finish it. Thanks for reading!**


	12. Cold Days

**Thank you suave sway for reviewing! And thank you Austra for reviewing chapters four and six!**

0000000000

Three weeks had passed since Jack took Racetrack to see Medda and his thoughts were still on her. He planned on going back soon and hoped he would get to talk to her again. Winter had started and the snow had begun to fall. Race decided to start going back to Sheepshead; he thought of it as a home and could not bear to be away any longer. He was planning on being very cautious, making sure none of Crazy Eight's guys were around. Most of them would not stay out too long because of the cold anyway; at least Race hoped that was true.

Racetrack had seen many winters, but this one felt like it was going to be bad. Like most of the newsies, Race did not have much in the way of cloths. They did what they could to survive and took whatever means necessary to do so. Racetrack knew he needed a jacket, so he figured he would have to steal one. As Racetrack was walking through the crowd at Sheepshead he scoped out a poor soul that was not using their jacket. Everyone seemed extra cold today; not one person took off their coat. Race sighed, but then a thought dawned on him. Medda! Maybe she had some old coats lying around from the costumes people wore on stage. That would be a perfect way to see her again and be able to talk to her. Racetrack smiled and watched the horses race around the cold track.

The next day Racetrack decided to leave the track early and head over to Medda's. He was going to ask Jack or one of the other boys to come, but decided if he did want a jacket he should get it on his own. When he got there some people were on the stage practicing for a show later that night. He watched them for a moment then set out to find Medda. It did not take long to find her, standing on the side of the stage. Racetrack made his way around the back and waited for Medda near the entrance.

When she turned around she smiled, "Racetrack, how ya been kid?"

"Good, just tryin' to beat da winter dis year. Seems like it's gonna be a bad one."

"Oh yes, but the cold brings in business." She laughed a little.

Racetrack realized how much warmer it was in the theater. For a second he considered finding a new job that involved being inside. "Speakin' of da cold, dat's kinda why I came." Medda looked at him questionably. "Ya wouldn't happen to have an old coat lyin' around somewheres would ya?"

Medda smiled sweetly and thought for a moment, "You know what, I think I might have one that'll fit you back in the costume closet." She motioned for Race to follow her.

Racetrack followed Medda through the back of the theater. They reached a small corridor with a few doors in it. Medda opened one revealing a long room with clothes everywhere. Racetrack was beginning to get more and more fascinated with theaters the more time he spent there. Medda walked straight to the back of the room and looked through a wooden crate filled with older and torn clothes.

"Ah here we are!" Medda held up a heavy green flannel checkered coat. It was a little torn, but looked warm.

Smiling Racetrack took the jacket and put it on. The sleeves were a bit long, but it would definitely keep him warm in the winter winter.

"Thanks! You can have free papes for life." He was admiring the jacket as Medda smiled.

"Glad I could help, I just wished I had enough to give to all of the kids that need it."

Racetrack stayed at the theater for while, and then headed out for Midtown. The poker game was going on tonight. Race had not been for a while so he decided to go and risk getting seen by Crazy Eights and his boys. Thankfully when Race got there Crazy Eights was not there, in fact not one guy from Brooklyn was there. Racetrack found this to be strange, so after he got settled into a game, he asked about it.

"So where's Brooklyn tonight?"

One of the boys from the Battery put down a card then looked at him, "Didn't ya hear?"

Racetrack gave him a dumb look, "Hear what?"

"Dat Brooklyn is gettin' took ovah." Another voice had emerged from the room. Racetrack recognized him as Grim, the Queens leader. He was sitting at a far table; Race noticed a fresh gash just above his eyebrow.

"What are ya talkin' about?" Racetrack glared at the boy. Everyone knew about him, he betrayed Brooklyn a while back and joined Queens. He was after Brooklyn ever since.

"I stabbed Spot da other night, dat's what I'm talkin' 'bout. And pretty soon Brooklyn won't be strong enough to handle all of us."

Racetrack swallowed, he loved a good fight, but the feud some of the borough's had with each other worried him. "Ya'r all talk Grim, I bet ya didn't get close to Spot before Brooklyn took care of ya."

Grim smirked and stifled a small life, "If dat's true, den why ain't none of dem here?"

Race did not have an answer. Grim was right. He wanted to ask more, but knew he could not trust anything Grim said. He would have to find out from a Brooklyn newsie to know what happened. Racetrack shook off his thoughts for the moment and focused on the game. Some of the boys seemed a little anxious knowing what the future might hold for them. After the game, Race had made about even. He had a few extra cents in his pocket, so he was not complaining. Snow had begun to fall as Race left Midtown. He was happy to have his new coat; he could already tell it would keep him warm all season. When he arrived at the lodging house, Racetrack took in the warmth and headed upstairs. He scanned the bunk room until he found Jack.

"Heya Jack, come 'ere for a second would ya."

Most of the boys were getting ready for bed, Jack was reading a book. He closed it and headed over to Racetrack, who took him out into the hall.

"What is it?"

Racetrack looked around making sure no one could hear, "We might have a problem."

Jack looked intrigued, "Yeah, with what?"

"Queens."

"What about 'em?"

"Da leader was at da game tonight, said he stabbed Spot. I don't know if he's breathin' or not, but dat means Brooklyn is down a leader for da time bein' so-"

"Queens could step in and take what they've wanted to."

"Right, and if dey take Brooklyn…"

"'Hatten's next."

Race nodded, "Spot's gotta lot of boirds, I'll go to Sheepshead tomorrow and see if I'se can catch one. Grim's got more bark den bite I'se think."

"Find out what ya can."

Racetrack gave Jack a small nod, and then headed to bed. Tomorrow would be a long day.

0000000000

**AN: Thanks for reading! Sorry this story is basically crap! Not as bad as my first story though…I hope. If anyone has absolutely any ideas or input or anything! I would gladly, gladly appreciate them! I can get inspiration from little things! I just have no clue right now where this is headed. Thanks again!**


	13. Changes

**Thank you NewsiesRacetrack88, newsie dork from D.U.M.B.O, and Aurora Scriptor for reviewing! **

**AN: I know you guys are ready to stab with pitch forks! I am so sorry for not updating in so long! School, work, working at a haunted house, and life in general has gotten the best of me! So I apologize again and hope you enjoy the chapter! **

0000000000

The next day Racetrack sold his papers as quickly as possible. He was surprised with himself for not stopping to make a bet on the horses racing. More important things mattered now however. He had to find out what was happening with Queens and Brooklyn. The last thing Manhattan wanted was a borough war. With no proper leader or fighting skills, for that matter, they would get taken over as well. Eventually Queens could take all of New York. Racetrack shuddered at the thought that only one brick taken out could cause a whole building to fall. If a borough war started a lot of kids would get hurt, more so thrown in jail. Things were not looking good.

Racetrack scanned Sheepshead hoping to find one of Spot's birds. They were good at blending in and knew when to make themselves scarce. Searching through the crowds Race spotted a patch of raven hair. He studied the boys face hard until he was sure he had seen him before. He recognized him as one of Spot's birds; ironically named Crow, he had seen him once at a card game. Slowly Racetrack walked up to Crow. He was leaning against a brick wall behind the crowds.

Clearing his throat, Racetrack leaned against the wall next to Crow, "You'se one of Spot's right?" He spoke in a low voice, no need to draw attention.

Crow glared at Racetrack, "Why do you care?"

"I just hoird a rumor dat Spot may have been incapacitated and Queens may be gettin' hot."

Crow shot Racetrack another look, "One of 'Hatten's boys sellin' on Brooklyn turf for so long shouldn't stick his nose where it don't concern 'em."

Racetrack huffed, "I'se think me sellin' 'ere is da least of Brooklyn's worries right now. And it does concern me, if da rumors are true, den Queens will be startin' up war soon. Dey do dat and it's everyone's concern."

Crow looked away and moved his eyes around the crowd, "Spot's gonna be fine. No one's got nuttin' to worry 'bout from Queens. Things in Brooklyn are 'bout to change, Racetrack, it'd be best to remembah dat." Crow pushed himself off the wall and walked away.

Racetrack was relieved to hear Spot was okay. Grim was telling the truth though. He stabbed Spot and was planning on a takeover, but Spot survived. Whether or not they would still try to fight Brooklyn was still a question. If Brooklyn lost a war between Queens, then they would all be in the same boat, but at least now there was a chance. Racetrack could not help but still feel uneasy, especially with Crow's last words. He hoped Brooklyn was not planning a war themselves. If they had to fight Brooklyn then things would go to Hell. Racetrack restrained himself with the want to gamble and made his way back to Manhattan.

As Racetrack walked back, he wondered if all the other boroughs were starting to catch word of Queen's plan. Even though Crow said everything was going to be okay, Race still could not help but feel like things could get ugly soon. Life had been pretty good to him since joining the newsies. If Racetrack had to quite because of a borough war, he would have no place to go. Things all across New York would be crazy. No kids could go into a different borough without trouble. That meant Racetrack would not be able to go to Sheepshead again, and one day without gambling was hard enough.

Once in Manhattan, Racetrack made his way to the square. Jack was sitting on the Horace Greeley statue, looking anxious. He immediately jumped up when he saw Racetrack approaching.

"So ya find out anythin'?" Jack spoke quietly. The other newsies only knew some rumors they had heard, not the whole story.

Race looked at Jack, "Yeah, as far as I know, Spot's alive and dey aren't lettin' Queens take ovah. But I'm still not sure dis is all ovah, I got a bad feeling 'bout it all."

Jack nodded, "We'll keep our eyes peeled, but until den we'll just have ta assume everythin's all right."

Racetrack huffed, "Yeah lets hope so, for everyone's sake."

00000000000

A few months later no borough wars had erupted, but all the boroughs had not acted the same since Queen's threat. Crow was right about Brooklyn too. Whatever Grim had done to Spot made him to turn hard. He had changed even more than when he had first become leader. Racetrack noticed the Brooklyn newsies more. Spot kept muscle at every border to make sure no trouble was coming. Stories started pouring out of Brooklyn that Spot would beat up kids for looking at him wrong. There were even stories about them killing random people off the street. The other boroughs were starting to get scared of Brooklyn, and Racetrack knew that was exactly what they wanted.

Racetrack had not reached the Brooklyn Bridge, on his way home from Sheepshead, when someone grabbed him and dragged him to the corner of the street.

"Hey what's da big idea here!" Racetrack glared at his assailant and shoved his arm off his shoulder. He looked familiar and soon Race realized it was one of Crazy Eights' goons. "Look, whatever dis is about, I don't got time for it so-"

"Don't think we'se forgot what ya did Racey."

"I didn't do nuttin' alright." Racetrack started to walk forward, but the goon pushed him back.

"Don't play dumb. Crazy Eights is willin' to forgive your debt, if accept his offer."

Racetrack eyed the boy carefully, "Yeah and what exactly would dis offer be?"

"Crazy Eights wants to tell ya 'emself."

"And how do I know ya'r not gonna woik me ovah when we'se get dere?"

The boy just smiled and started to walk away. Racetrack stared at him wide eyed and was about to keep walking home, when he stopped and turned his head, "It'd be wise of ya to follow me."

Race followed, but was very unhappy about the whole situation. He thought about running, but knew Crazy would send more goons after him. And the next time he would not be lucky enough to have Cowboy at the rescue. The boy led Racetrack to Crazy Eights' headquarters; he had dropped off the deliveries several times there before. The goon led him to a back room, there were a lot of guys there. Almost everyone was busy doing something and in the middle of all the chaos, was Crazy Eights. He was sitting at a desk with his dirty brown boots up.

"Well, well, well, looked what da cat dragged in." Racetrack stayed silent. "I'se been waitin' to talk to ya for a while now Race. Ever since ya cheated me. But don't worry, dats all in da past now. I'se got a new proposition for ya."

Racetrack shook his head, "No, thanks. I didn't like doin' grunt woik while everyone else got a bigger piece of da pie."

Crazy Eights did not move, "It ain't a choice, and besides, dis is bigger dan before."

Racetrack raised his eyebrow a little.

"Times are changin' Race."

"So I've hoid."

"I need more men to woik for me and you just happen to be on my list."

Racetrack eyed the room, no one seemed fazed by his presence, "And what kind of woik are we talkin'?"

"I needs a few guys to handle da welshes who think dey can hold out on me."

"And do what exactly?"

"Get what dey owe."

Racetrack stared at Crazy Eights. The guy was completely serious. He wanted Race and whatever other guys to go around the city and beat the money out of people. There was no way he wanted to be a part of that, but it did not seem like he had a choice.

"And if I refuse?"

"Den we'se take care of ya right here, and you can give what ya owe."

A boy to Race's right took a step closer and cracked his knuckles. Racetrack gulped a little.

Crazy Eights smiled, "Dat's what I thought. Now go on back to ya'r newsies. I'se 'ill send for ya when ya'r needed."

Racetrack walked out of there as calmly as possible. As soon as he reached the outside he ran. A few blocks later, Race leaned against a wall and tilted his head back. He was about to get into something deep, and he was going to have to ride it out or become dog meat. A million thoughts were racing through his head, one of which was to skip town. But where would he go? There was no other choice, he had to do this. Racetrack collected himself then headed back to the lodging house. He was not looking forward to Crazy's call.

0000000000

**AN: Thank you soooo much for reading! I can't to begin to explain how guilty I have felt for not working on this story harder. If I could ask for a Christmas gift from you guys this year, it would be that you do not give up on me! I really want to get these chapters out faster and hope that I can stay true to that! Thanks again everyone and Happy Holidays! **


	14. Crazy's Call

**Thank you Aurora Scriptor for reviewing! **

0000000000

Things had been quiet for the past week, but Racetrack's paranoia started to grow. Any day now Crazy Eights would be calling and Racetrack would have to do whatever he asked. Race had not told anyone about his new recruitment and decided to keep it that way. He almost lost all of his friends the first time he worked for him and now he was in deeper. If any of the other newsies knew what he was about to get himself into, they would probably kick him out of the lodging house for good. Where would that leave him then? He would be on streets alone, like all those years ago.

Three days later, Racetrack's paranoia was confirmed. Race was selling at Sheepshead, his focus more on the horses than selling, when a boy a few years older than him approached. He put his hand roughly on Racetrack's shoulder and Race instantly snatched back his shoulder before turning around.

"Hey, whada ya…" Racetrack stopped when he recognized who the boy was. Bean was what they called him; he had brown hair and brown eyes. Racetrack was not entirely sure where the name came from.

"Duty calls Race." Bean smirked and handed him a piece of paper.

Racetrack took the paper and waited for Bean to turn around and walk away. Once he was out of view Race stepped away from the crowd and looked at the paper.

_373 St. Marks Ave_

_7:00 Morning_

That was not very from Sheepshead. Racetrack carefully folded the piece of paper and put it in his pocket. He sighed and threw his remaining papers on the ground, selling did not seem very important right now.

After a little while of just staring into space, Racetrack decided to head back to the lodging house. He had a lot of think about. The whole walk home, Race had not paid attention to his surrounding and did not even notice when he entered the lodging house. It was not until Kloppman yelled his name that he snapped back into reality.

"Surprised to see ya back here so soon." Kloppman eyed Race.

Racetrack shrugged, "Bad day for da horses."

Kloppman was going to ask if everything was alright, but did not get the chance because Racetrack was already halfway up the stairs. No one else was in the bunkroom; they would all still be out selling. Racetrack sat down on his bed and rested his hands on his chin.

If he did not go tomorrow, then he would have to run far away and even then, there was a good chance Crazy's goons would try and find him. But if he stayed what consequences would ensue? He was not sure how far he would have to go to get money from Crazy's "clients", but he was sure some unwanted things would follow. Crazy could just be using him as a scapegoat and in the end would take the fall for whatever happened to these people. But if he played his cards right then could work his way to the top and take Crazy's place one day. That last one seemed like a far stretch, but he would have to look forward to something. Racetrack was so lost in his own thoughts he did not notice the boys file in.

Dutchy walked in and noticed Racetrack staring off into space. He sat down on the bed across from him and watched Racetrack for awhile. He was completely oblivious. Dutchy snapped his fingers in front of Race's face and that was enough to snap him out of his trance.

Racetrack jumped, "Oh, hey."

"Somethin' on ya'r mind?"

Racetrack looked up at his once best friend. He wanted to tell him so bad about everything, but for some reason his mind told him to keep it to himself. Maybe because he was ashamed of what he got into or maybe he did not want Dutchy caught up in any of it. He was not sure, but Race decided to keep himself distant, like he had been for a while.

"Just thinkin'. Nuttin' important."

Dutchy knew that was the end of the conversation, but he did not believed Racetrack for a second. He had known him for a long time and could tell when he was lying, not that it was not obvious here. Even though they had not really spoken in a long time, Dutchy still saw Race as one of his good friends. He could not just let whatever was bothering Racetrack go.

That night Racetrack did not sleep. He spent most of it outside on the fire escape smoking. Just before the sun came up, Race made his way back inside and into bed. He did not want to draw any attention to himself; even if most boys kept out of each other's business. After everyone was up Racetrack slowly made his way out with everyone else, he skipped out when he thought no one was looking and headed to Brooklyn. Again part of him told him to stay back, but another part told him to go.

When he arrived at the apartment building, Crazy's goons were outside. There was no turning back now. Racetrack took a big breath and put on his tough guy look, he was not going to get emotional over anything that happened today.

The two guys waiting for Race nodded and without saying anything led the way inside. They went up two flights of steps and passed several children playing, before they reached the man's door. One of Crazy's guys pounded on the door and when it did not open he pounded until it did. The man who opened was much older than Racetrack, maybe in his forty's or so. At first he was angry at the pounding on his door, but when he realized who it was, he got scared.

Racetrack stood back and watched the goons work; one of them took a step towards the man at the door, "We'se come to collect."

"Hey, I'se told ya, times are tough right now. Gettin' money is hard."

The other goon shoved the man, "We'se don't care. Crazy wants his money and we ain't leavin' here without it."

They pushed the man inside; Race followed and reluctantly shut the door. They were alone in the man's apartment. Racetrack looked around; it was a small one roomed place. The man did not have much in the way of possessions, but he could tell that the man had been there was a long time. Racetrack was snapped out of his observations, when Crazy's goons shoved the man on the floor.

One of them looked towards Race, "Look through his stuff."

Racetrack hesitated for a moment then proceeded to look through the little of what the man had. He scanned the room and decided to go to the old brown chest that was sitting under the window. He opened and saw the man's clothes and few other things. Racetrack dug through to the bottom and sure enough there was money stored. He shook his head and picked it up.

The man saw the money in Racetrack's hand, "Please, it's all I have!"

One of the goons took the money from Racetrack, "We'se done here." He headed for the door, the other goon, and Race followed.

When they exited the apartment the goon with the money turned to Racetrack and handed him some. "Ya did good, we'se 'ill let ya know when we'se need ya again."

Racetrack took the money and watched the two goons leave. He looked back at the apartment building. For a moment he wanted to go back and give the man his money back, but then Racetrack decided he did not deserve it. That man gambled more than he should have and decided not to pay what he owed. He had the money, Racetrack was witness to that. _Why should I have to suffer for someone else's mistake?_ He looked down at the money; it was a lot more than he made selling papers. He shoved the money in his pocket and headed to Sheepshead, for now he could handle this job. He knew not all of them would end without any bloodshed, but for now it was alright.

0000000000

**AN: Thanks for reading! For anyone interested I started another Fanfiction, I know I should not do two at once, but I could not help it. It is Power Rangers and is called Skull's Big Break. You can find it on my profile! Thanks again! **


	15. Boots

**Thank you Aurora Scriptor for reviewing! **

**AN: This chapter goes along with chapter 17 of Spot's Story, but you do not have to read it to know what is going on. But if you want to, you can! **

00000000000

Racetrack had been working for Crazy Eights for a while and the more jobs he went on, the more of himself he felt he lost. Yes, he felt tougher from pushing people around and demanding the money they owed, but this was not who Racetrack was. If he ever had to beat someone up because of something they did directly to him or someone he cared about, then it was not a problem. But what he was doing for Crazy Eights felt wrong. At the same time, the longer it went on, the more Race was beginning to like it. He had power and was starting to become known in the city.

The last job he had was two day ago, it went pretty well, but instead of searching the house like he usually did, he had to help get information out of the guy. It was not the first time, but he hated having to hurt other people, especially when he had been in their situation before. This was one of those times where he felt bad and good at the same time. Shaking information out of guy gave him power and respect, but also made him a lowlife that most people despised. Whenever Racetrack was on a job, he tried to not think about what he was doing, that made him feel better.

Today, however, Crazy Eights had no jobs for Racetrack to do, no one to go beat up for money. He decided to go the Sheepshead; he had not been there in a few days and was itching for a good race. He could actually bet a fair amount of money today. Racetrack spent most of the day there and had done alright. He lost some and won some and came out about even. The sun was threatening to set when he decide to leave.

On his way out of Sheepshead he saw someone approaching him. Once they got closer, Racetrack recognized him as Sneaks, Spot's best friend. He had not seen him since Spot became leader. He had a feeling this was not going to be a visit for catching up.

"Heya Sneaks, how's it rollin'?"

"Not bad Race…ya gotta come to da docks wit me."

"What for?"

"New orders, Spot don't want no one outside of Brooklyn comin' in without his permission."

Racetrack huffed, "Finally goin' cuckoo ain't he?"

Sneaks glared, "Don't talk about 'em like dat. We'se just can be too careful dese days."

Racetrack shook his head, "Yeah, all right." He followed Sneaks to the docks. It was not that far, but felt longer because the walk was completely silent. He knew Spot was worried about other boroughs on his turf, but blocking the city off was kind of ridiculous. When they finally got to the docks, Racetrack saw Spot sitting up on his throne of crates. He really loved to be above everyone else.

Spot smirked, jumped down, and walked over to Racetrack and Sneaks. "Racetrack...long time no see."

Racetrack looked at his old friend, "Been busy."

Spot laughed a little, "Yeah, I'se know ya have."

Race glared at some of the newsies standing around, "Figured ya might." He should have known his business in Brooklyn would never be a secret with Spot's birds around.

Sneaks took a few steps towards Spot, "Ya said no one was allowed in Brooklyn, an' Race has been comin' here always. I'se just wanted to make sure dat was alright wichoo."

Spot nodded as he twirled his cane around, "Yeah, yeah, dat's fine. Just can't be too careful is all."

Racetrack smirked, "So I've heard. Ya know Spot ya've really changed."

Spot seemed to completely dodge that statement, "Ya know, since ya'r already here, you should stick around. We'se gonna play poker tonight."

It had been a long time since Racetrack had a good game of poker. He smiled, "Yeah, alright. As long as ya don't soak me for takin' all ya'r money."

"We'se 'ill see 'bout dat." Spot whistled for the other boys to come back to the lodging house. They all set off as the sun started to set on the water.

When they got to the lodging house, some boys went upstairs, some scrounged for food, and others sat down ready to play poker. Racetrack took out the deck of cards he kept in his pocket and shuffled them. As he was dealing, he noticed a small boys sitting next to Sneaks at the table. He did not look like he belonged in Brooklyn. Most boys there had hard exteriors and were equally as tough.

Sneaks seemed to notice Race see the boy and as he grabbed his cards he introduced him. "Dis is Boots, been here 'bout a month."

The boy smiled a little and grabbed his cards as well.

As the game started, Race began to tell stories about Manhattan and his life to Boots and the others. He must have been too distracted in his storytelling, because Spot was winning. As the hours passed, the other boys slowly dropped out of the game. Race and Spot were going head to head and Race decided that he should probably back out before Spot took all his money. When did he get so good at poker?

"Well Spot it's gettin' late, so's I'se think I'm gonna go on back." He was losing and Race did not like that.

Spot smiled, "Aw…but me pockets jus' love 'avin' all ya'r money in dem."

Racetrack huffed and mumbled in Italian.

Spot laughed and rose to go upstairs. "See ya 'round Race. Anytime ya wanna play poker just come one by." Not like Spot's ego needed to go any bigger.

Racetrack shook his head and headed for the door, but stopped when he heard Boots call his name.

He turned to face the boy, "Yeah?"

Boots looked up at Racetrack with big brown eyes, "I'se was wonderin'…do ya think there is some extra room at da Manhattan lodgin' house for one more?"

Race laughed a little, "What…ya don't like Brooklyn?"

Boots smiled and played it off like the place did not intimidate him. "Naw…I'se jus' think I'se need ta change my surroundin's is all." He gave a big nod.

To be honest, Racetrack was surprised Boots had been there a month. The kid was tough sure, but he was young. For some reason it seemed most of the Brooklyn newsies were older, harder. Boots was a laid back kid who needed more kids his age to hang around with. He nodded, "Yeah I'se think we'se can find ya a bed, but a ya'r gonna 'ave ta convince Spot."

"Convince me of what?" Spot stood at the bottom of the steps with his arms crossed and glaring.

Boots took a step toward Spot and gulped. "Spot, I'se uh think dat I wanna live in Manhattan."

Spot looked at Boots, his expression unchanged. "Fine, not like I'm keepin' ya here against ya'r will or nothin'."Spot started to go up the stairs, but then turned around, "But, if I'se evah catch ya doin' anythin' to betray Brooklyn, den I'se 'ill kill ya meself." With that Spot went the rest of the way up the stairs.

Boots let out a big breath and headed up stairs to grab his stuff. Racetrack almost lost it, when Spot threatened the kid. Though it was true, if anyone did betray Spot, they would pay for it. After a little while of waiting, Racetrack heard footstep quickly descend the stairs. Boots did not have much in the way of things; really all he had was his hat and extra shirt. That was not surprising however; most newsies did not have many possessions.

The two new friends left the Brooklyn lodging house and talked most of the way home. Racetrack quickly forgot about his losings from the poker game. As he listened to Boots talk about his life and how excited he was to be a newsie in Manhattan, Racetrack began to miss being a kid. Growing up the way he did was hard, but every child had innocence and now Racetrack had none. He began to think about his new job with Crazy Eights, the money was good, but what he had to do to get it, outweighed that.

When they got to the lodging house, only a few boys were still awake. Racetrack explained how he met Boots and asked if he could stay. It only took meeting Boots for all of the boys to instantly like him. He seemed to cheer up the place a bit. Racetrack went off to bed and thought about how much he missed his old life. If only he could figure out how to get back to that, then maybe he could stop feeling guilty about what he was doing everyday.

000000000

**AN: Yay, Boots is a newsie now! For those of you who read Spot's Story, I am sorry if some of that was too familiar, I tried to change it up a bit. The next chapter is going to have some Dutchy and Race bonding woo! Thanks for reading everyone!**


	16. Last Job

**Thank you Aurora Scriptor and NewsiesRacetrack88 for reviewing! **

0000000000

Boots had been a Manhattan Newsie for a couple months and he fit in perfectly. It took no time to become part of the family and he made lots of new friends. Racetrack could not help but smile at the boy he was around. Boots really made him miss how things used to be.

Jobs seemed to be coming more and more often. All the boys began to notice Race not selling as much. He began to buy papers in the morning, keep them until he got to Brooklyn, and then throw them away once he got near a job. He felt worn, taking people's money, hurting them for it; it was all getting to be too much.

One person took extra care in noticing what Racetrack was doing. Dutchy began watching him more closely. He had seen the change start a few months prior and did not like what he saw. Racetrack became more distant and more tired looking. He had a secret that he was scared to tell. Dutchy was lying in his bed staring at Racetrack's empty one. Usually this just meant Racetrack was at Sheepshead, but he knew something else was happening. Dutchy wondered if he should even care about Race. They had drifted since he first brought him to the newsies, but back then, they were best friends. What exactly happened to cause their drift, he was not sure.

Dutchy turned around in his bed and faced the other side of the room. Part of him did not want to care. He put his arm under his pillow and felt something he hard. The book; he had almost forgot it was there. He had not looked at it in a few months. Dutchy pulled out the book and flipped through it. He began to think about how great of a friend Racetrack really was. He never did anything to thank him for trying to teach him to read, but maybe it was not too late. Dutchy thought about how he could help Racetrack until he fell to sleep. Tomorrow he would do something.

The next day Dutchy watched Racetrack buy his papers and begin to walk towards Brooklyn. Dutchy bought a few papers, but not a lot, today he had a mission. He followed Racetrack thinking he would be led to some mystery place, but he went right to Sheepshead. Nothing strange there. Dutchy sighed, thinking he was just paranoid about Racetrack's behavior. Maybe he thought he was getting to old to be a Newsie, or maybe he was just depressed. Dutchy headed back before Racetrack, he did not want him to know he was following him. Racetrack made it to the lodging house a few hours after Dutchy did. Tomorrow Dutchy decided he would follow Race again, just to be sure.

Racetrack woke up the next morning like every day. He bought his papers, to play his part as a _Newsie_. Today he had a job. It was bigger than the last and involved a lot more people than usual. Crazy Eights needed most of his guys on this. A rival group of Crazy Eights lost a bet to him and refused to pay. They say they won, Crazy says they lost. Racetrack did not really care who won the bet or not, all he cared about was the job he had to do. The sooner he could get there, the sooner it would be over with. Racetrack waited until he was on the boarder of Manhattan and Brooklyn before he chucked his papers in the trash. He looked around to make sure no newsies were around, he failed however to notice the one following him.

Dutchy figured that today was going to be like the day before. He decided to follow Racetrack to Brooklyn then turn and around and concentrate on selling his papers. They were almost in Brooklyn and Dutchy was ready to turn around, when Racetrack looked around then threw his papers in a garbage pile. He rubbed his glasses to make sure he had seen that right. Why would Racetrack ditch his papers? Dutchy kept a close eye on his friend and followed him a little closer.

Racetrack arrived to the address he was given, it was an old building with some broken windows and dirt collecting on the sides. Most of the guys were already in the vicinity. They did not clump together, because that would draw unwanted attention. Racetrack took a safe spot away from some of the other boys and waited. He knew how this would work; they would go in one group at a time until the situation was settled. A few minutes later three of the guys went into the building. There were four groups of five guys; this was not there first time doing this sort of thing.

From across the street, Dutchy watched Racetrack and other boys go into the old building. They went in groups and this caused Dutchy to get very curious as to what Racetrack had gotten himself into. Once all the boys had gone in, after several minutes, Dutchy crept up to the side of the building. He stepped on a couple of crates that were leaning against the dirty gray brick and looked through the corner of broken yellowing window. There seemed to be some sort of stand off going on inside. He there were more guys inside than there had previously been outside. Dutchy scanned the large room for Racetrack. It took him a minute, but then he saw him standing to the side, next to some other boys. The boys in the center of the room had weapons held out in front of the boys that were already in the building. One boy who liked the ring leader was holding his knife out and talking to the guy in front of him. Dutchy could not hear what they were saying very well, but he did hear him ask about money. He looked back at Racetrack who seemed ready to fight along with the other boys around him. The boy with the knife tackled the guy in front of him and held the knife to his throat. Both sides reacted and chaos broke out.

Dutchy kept his eyes on Racetrack, who darted across the room to a desk while shoving guys out of his way. Dutchy noticed there was a door at the back of the building, near where Racetrack was. Part of him wanted to intervene, but if Racetrack chose this, then there was not really anything he could do. His thought was interrupted by a distant siren and the sound of galloping horses. Dutchy ran to the front of the building and saw the police coming down the street. Without hesitation, Dutchy booked it to the back of the building and found the door he saw earlier. When he ran inside, it was straight into the chaos. The boys were all fighting and tearing the place apart, some where injured and on the floor. Racetrack was gone from the desk. Dutchy scanned around until he found Race digging through crates filled with junk owned by the boys that stayed there. Dutchy Ran up to Race, dodging things in his way, and grabbed his shoulder which almost landed him a punch in the face.

Racetrack looked at him confused, "What are ya doin' here?"

Dutchy shook his head, "No time, we'se gotta go!"

"I ain't goin' no where, I'm kinda busy here if ya hadn't noticed!"

Dutchy eyed the front door, "Come on!" He pulled Race's arm.

Anger filled in Racetrack's eyes and he would not budge from his spot. His head whipped around when he heard the front door slam open and whistles begin to blow.

"Still busy?" Dutchy looked wide eyed at Racetrack.

Race said nothing, but followed Dutchy out the back door. They ran down alley ways until they were sure all foot steps behind them were lost. A few boys had followed them out of the building and possibly a few policemen. Just in case anyone had followed them further, they darted into an apartment building and onto the roof. They looked over the edge to scope out the city below them, everything seemed clear.

Racetrack turned to Dutchy, "What the hell were ya thinkin'?"

Dutchy swallowed to catch his breath, "I just wanted to know what ya'd been up to all dis time."

Racetrack's face softened a little, "Well, I'm damn glad ya did." He let out a big breath and sat down against the wall of the ledge. "Crazy's gonna kill me."

Dutchy plopped down next to him, "Crazy?" The pieces were fitting together now, "Like Crazy Eights, Crazy? Are ya insane! Dat's what ya've been doin' all dis time? Workin' for him? Jeez Race, how stupid can ya be?"

"Hey! Shut it alright! He pays good and its easy woirk."

"Yeah? And what do ya gotta do to get dat money huh?"

Racetrack looked down at the ground, "At foirst I liked it. Good money, power and everthin', but it ain't exactly da kinda job ya can just quite ya know."

Dutchy calmed down a bit, "Race, ya can't woirk dere no more. Ya'll get arrested or killed or somethin'. If I hadn't followed ya today, ya'd be in the refuge till you were gray."

Racetrack rolled his eyes, but knew it was the truth, "Yeah well…thanks for savin' my hide back dere."

Dutchy smiled a bit, "So ya ain't goin' back dere again, right?" He hated to think Racetrack would end up like so many who worked for Crazy Eights in the past.

Racetrack looked up at the bright blue sky, "Yeah, I just gotta figure out how exactly."

000000000

**AN: Wow that was a lot of paragraphs and almost no dialog. I hope you guys liked it! Thank you for reading! So sorry this took forever again…school is killing me right now. **


	17. Getting Out

**Thank you Aurora Scriptor for reviewing! **

000000000

Racetrack had been very thankful for Dutchy showing up at the fight when he did. He would have ended up in the refuge like Jack did for who knows how long. Teddy Roosevelt was not planning on visiting again anytime soon, so he would have definitely been stuck there. Although Racetrack was free from the bulls, that did not mean he was off the hook. Crazy Eights would be coming for him. He ran away from the fight and had not gone back to Brooklyn in two days. He could not be apart of that anymore. The money and power was nice, but he hated beating people up who did not always deserve it. Working for Crazy Eights was dangerous and the other day proved that. Racetrack had missed his life as a newsie and hoped he could go back to the way things were, without any consequences.

Racetrack was hanging low for a while. He refused to leave the lodging house in fear of getting jumped by one of Crazy's guys. He knew he had to do something soon, or else the boys would start calling him a wimp. Racetrack was sitting on his bed one day while the other newsies were out selling. He was trying to think of a plan. Jack walked into the bunk room and went over to his friend.

"Heya Race, you've been cooped up in 'ere for a while." Jack leaned on the bed frame.

Racetrack sighed, "Yeah, got into some trouble back in Brooklyn."

"Crazy Eights?"

Racetrack looked at Jack with a questionable look, no one but Dutchy knew, at least that was what he thought.

Jack smiled, "Spot ain't da only one with boirds ya know. We've all noticed ya spendin' more time in Brooklyn than here. I figured ya woulda got in with 'em."

"Yeah well I'm out now, I just gotta figure out a way to let him know dat."

Jack stood there for a moment then sat down next to Race. "A few months ago Spot hoird dat Harlem was thinkin' about taken over 'Hattan den woirk his way to Brookyn. He came here and we went to Harlem and he beat up deir leader, Stitch, so he wouldn't try anythin'."

Racetrack nodded comprehending Jack's story, "So ya'r saying I should go soak Crazy before he gets me?" He looked at Jack with wide eyes.

Jack laughed, "No, I was thinkin' ya could ask Spot for help. He knows Crazy and ya'r friends so he'd probably help."

"Oh, that sounds a lot better than challengin' Crazy."

That night Racetrack thought about asking Spot for help. He and Spot were friends so he would probably help him, but Crazy Eights and Spot knew each other as well. Racetrack sighed and thought that going to Spot could do more damage. Crazy would come after him if he did not do something soon. Racetrack shook his head, he did not have a choice; going to Spot would be his only option.

When the sun came up Racetrack left the lodging house before the rest of the Newsies. He did not want anyone trying to come with him; he had to do this alone. Racetrack was very careful not to run into any of Crazy's guys. He knew Spot was probably out selling so he went to the docks to wait. Racetrack stared out at the water and watched the ripples. About two hours later Spot arrived with several other newsies. They saw Racetrack and glared. Racetrack put on his friendly but tough face and waltzed up to Spot.

"Heya Spot."

Spot smirked and stared at his friend. "Racetrack, been awhile. Surprised you showed ya'r face around here."

Racetrack cursed to himself, "Talked to Crazy Eights den?"

Spot's smirk widened, "I've hoird some things."

"Yeah well whatever ya've hoird. I came here as a friend to ask a favor."

"Ya'r askin' a friend for a favor against another friend?"

Racetrack was beginning to regret his decision of going to see Spot. "Listen Spot, I made some mistakes. Ya know what Crazy will do to me, I need ya'r help."

"Why should I help ya Race? Ya ran, took da cowards way out and den hid like some rat."

"How long have we known each other Spot? Ya know I ain't cut out for dat kind a business."

Spot nodded, "Yeah, I guess ya are right about dat one Race. But even I can't tell Crazy what to do, and I ain't gonna ruin me friendship with him for you. Ya gotta prove it."

"Yeah and how exactly am I gonna do that?"

Spot twirled his cane around. "Go right up to him and settle it."

"Gee Spot dat's a great idea, except dat's da reason why I came to ya in the foirst place."

Spot glared, "Ya won't be alone Race. I'll be watchin', but I may or may not get involved."

It was better than nothing. Racetrack nodded then walked over to the edge of the dock. He mentally prepared himself for what was to come. Only two things could happen when he talks to Crazy Eights. One everything would work out and he would get off or two Crazy would kill him for running out. Racetrack hoped today was not his last. When the time came Racetrack headed out to Crazy Eights' place of business. Spot followed at a distance, he knew that his presence there could change the outcome of what was going to happen and he wanted to see exactly how Racetrack would handle himself.

The minute Racetrack stepped near Crazy's warehouse a couple of goons grabbed him and dragged him inside. Spot hid out around the building. Racetrack noticed that most the guys from the fight the other day were missing. Crazy Eights was leaning back in his wooden chair behind his desk with his feet up.

He looked Racetrack up and down, "So ya decided to come back? I shoulda took care of ya when I had the chance."

Racetrack swallowed, "Hear me out Crazy Eights, I had to get outta dere of da bulls woulda had me. I know I shoulda come back, but da other day made me realize dis ain't what I wanna do anymore."

Crazy sat up in his chair, "Ya shoulda thought of dat before ya joined us." He got up and walked to the front of his desk and leaned on it. "I know ya ain't dumb Race, so I'm curious as to why ya came back. Ya wanna fight me or did ya just come to die?"

The boys around the room grinned was Racetrack's tough guy demeanor faltered slightly. He walked in there fully prepared to fight Crazy, but the more he thought about the less he wanted to do it. "L-listen Crazy, I don't wanna fight ya and I definitely don't wanna die." Racetrack put his hand in his pocket and felt something familiar. His lips turned up at the thought, "How 'bout I play ya for my freedom?"

Crazy Eights laughed, "Ya expect me settle dis with poker?"

"Why not?"

"Why not soak ya right now instead of wastin' me time."

"Or you could play 'em."

Crazy Eights' eyes shot up to the door where Spot Conlon was now standing. "Ya'r on his side Spot?" His face grew dark.

"I'm not on anyone's side. I just don't wanna see any unnecessary blood get spilled tonight. What will one game hoirt? Ya win ya get Race, he wins he walks."

Crazy glared at Spot and thought about it. Finally he made his decision, "Fine, one game."

Everyone gathered around one of the many tables in the room. Racetrack sat across Crazy Eights. Spot stood in between Race and Crazy. Racetrack handed over his deck of cards and Crazy Eights dealt them. They began their game.

Twenty minutes later the game was getting intense. It was head to head. Racetrack did not want to lose, could not, so he knew there was only one thing he could do. Cheat. Everyone's eyes were on him, he was sweating, and his heart was racing. There was a sure cheat that he could use to win, but it was risky. His father taught it to him and just happened to be the same one he used on the night he was killed. The guy that killed his father assumed he was cheating, but never actually saw it. Racetrack just hoped he could still fulfill his father's last words. Don't get caught.

And he didn't. Fifteen minutes later Racetrack put down a royal flush with his shaky hands. Crazy Eights eyed him carefully looking at his cards before setting them face down. His look said he did not trust that Racetrack had just won, but he did not call him out on it. Crazy looked at Spot then back at Racetrack.

"Looks like you're off the hook." He leaned forward. "But if ya ever cause me trouble again, I'll end ya."

Racetrack's nerves were settling. He nodded and got up from the table taking his cards back. Ignoring the glares, Racetrack left the building and Spot followed. When he walked into fresh air he let out a relieved breath. He glanced over to see Spot smirking at him. Once they were out of ear shot Spot spoke.

"Ya'r lucky ya didn't get caught."

Racetracks eyes widened a little; there was no way Spot saw him cheat.

"Relax, I ain't gonna tell anyone. Go home Race, ya'r free." He laughed and walked ahead of Racetrack towards the Brooklyn lodging house. "Oh, and Race." He stopped and turned around facing his friend. "Don't ask me for any favors again."

Racetrack nodded and headed back home. He was still worried Crazy's goons would come after him, but he seemed to be safe for now. Tomorrow he could sell papers again, just like old times. A small part of him regretted leaving Crazy, but he knew it was better for him in the long run. If he had stayed with Crazy, he would have ended up in jail or dead before he turned nineteen.

00000000

**AN: Thanks for reading! Again so sorry for taking forever on this story! I'm out of school now, so hopefully I can upload faster.**


	18. Lovely Lessons

**Thank you NewsiesRacetrack88 and Aurora Scriptor for Reviewing! **

**AN: This is going to be a short chapter, because I was looking through my notes and forgot this. The next chapter will be very long, so I hope that makes up for the time I've taken and the shortness of this. **

00000000

Racetrack had been accepted back into the newsies over time. Not all of them knew about his time with Crazy Eights, but they were glad to have their friend back and working like he used to. Racetrack had been paranoid for a few months after he left Crazy. He thought Crazy would still send goons after him; jump him in a dark ally and stab him or something. But after a while it seemed everyone forgot about that, even Racetrack.

On a Sunday afternoon, Racetrack could not find anything do to. No one wanted to play cards and Sheepshead closed early, so there was no point in going. Racetrack just sat on his bunk looking at the bed above him. Out of no where and idea sprung in his head. Racetrack decided to go visit Medda.

Racetrack had not seen her in a while and could not help but fuel his crush. He made his was to Broome Street and hoped Medda was there. When he stepped inside he would hear music, they were rehearsing one of the songs. Racetrack snuck in the main room and took a seat in the back. Medda was singing while another man was playing harmonica. When the song ended, Racetrack stood up, clapped, and whistled. Medda squinted her eyes and smiled when she recognized the face.

"Racetrack, it's good to see ya kid! What brings ya here?"

Racetrack walked up to the stage unable to hold back his smile. "Just in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by to see my favorite lady." He kissed her hand and turned to the man that was playing harmonica. "Ya're really good."

He laughed a little then pointed the harmonica at Medda, "You should hear Medda…she's a lot better than me."

Racetrack's eyes widened, "You?"

Medda put her hands on her hips, "What ya didn't think a woman would know how to play?"

Racetrack was lost for words.

Medda smiled, "How 'bout I teach ya?"

For the rest of the day Medda taught Racetrack how to play harmonica. At first he was horrible, but once he stopped staring at Medda and actually tried; he began to get it. By the end of the day Racetrack was able to play a song. He got up on the stage and played while Medda watched. She began to clap and he began to dance.

"Racetrack, I had no idea you could move like that."

Racetrack began to blush, "Well me dad taught me a few things besides cards."

She laughed, "I think you could have a future in theatre kid."

"I think I'll just stick to gamblin' for now. Hey thanks for teachin' me dis. I had a great time."

"My pleasure, why don't ya keep that harmonica and keep practicin' for me."

"Really? Thanks Medda!"

Racetrack said goodbye and headed back to the lodging house. As Race walked into the bunkroom, the smile never left his face. The boys watched him walk over and lay on his bed.

Skittery eyed Racetrack, "What's gotchoo so happy?"

Racetrack sighed, "I think I'm in love."

The boys burst out in laughter.

Jack walked over and leaned on Race's bunk. "And who might be da lucky lady?"

Racetrack was staring off into space, "Medda."

That made the boys roar in laughter. Racetrack glared at the boys. It took several minutes for the laughter to subside.

Jack put his hand on Race's shoulder, "Sorry man, but I don't think Medda is gonna go for the likes of you."

Racetrack sat up, he looked hurt by that statement. "Yeah, and why's dat?"

Boots spoke up, "For one ya'r a kid."

Snipeshooter laughed, "A poor kid."

Specs nodded, "Not to mention the gamblin' problem."

Kid Blink hit Specs in the arm, "There's also da fact dat ya'r a shrimp."

All the boys laughed and Racetrack jumped up from his sitting position. "Alright I'se get it. Now will shut it!" He through his hands in the air and huffed.

Bumlets had a look of guilt on his face, "Aww, did we make ya upset for pointin' out all da truths?"

Racetrack began to mumble something in Italian as he walked out of the room. He should have never opened his mouth. He went into the hallway and looked at the Harmonica in his hands. That made him smile again. He did not care what the other boys thought, he liked Medda a lot.

00000000

**AN: Thanks for reading! This will not be a romance between Race and Medda, I just feel that he has an amusing obsession with her. Sorry this chapter is so short, I meant to incorporate it with an earlier chapter, but forgot. I will try to update the next chapter very soon!**


	19. Strike!

**Thank you Aurora Scriptor for Reviewing! **

**AN: This chapter is going to be strike stuff, but it is going to be a little different and not a duplicate of the movie. The strike in Spot's Story was miserable, which is why I've decided to shove it all in one chapter, so I promise this won't be bad! Well, no worse than usual. **

00000000

It had been months since Medda taught Racetrack how to play harmonica. He had practiced a lot. Working with Crazy Eights seemed like ages ago. Things had gone back to normal and he fell back into the same routine as he always had. Wake up, get papers, go to Sheepshead, spend more money that he made, get home after everyone was asleep, and then repeat. He and Dutchy seemed to drift again, only talking to each other every now and then. Dutchy would occasionally join in a game of cards, but he mostly hung out with other newsies. Everything was normal for a long time, even boring. That was until Pulitzer decided to raise the price of the newspapers.

It started out like any other day; he woke up to find that Snipeshooter stole his cigar. That little brat was always getting into his things. They got some breakfast from the nuns and headed to the distribution office. Race talked his way into free papers; he owed Weasel a lot of money, but Race always seemed to get more papers. But then something different happened, a kid named David showed up. He looked like a scab and Racetrack did not like him from the beginning. He had a family and looked like he'd never spent a night on the streets, like many of the newsies had.

David would soon be called Mouth. Racetrack blamed him for putting the strike idea into Jack's head, but at the same time he gave the newsies excitement again. They now had something to fight for. At first Racetrack pretended to like David, but by the end of the strike, he actually respected him. He grew a soft spot for David's little brother, Les. Racetrack found himself babysitting several times throughout the strike. He did not mind though; Les was a good kid. He became the little brother Racetrack always wished he had.

He taught Les how to play cards, how to sweet talk his paper sales, and anything else he could know about being a newsie. David was never happy when he picked Les up after doing strike business. He did not agree with the things Racetrack was teaching him, but he saw how much Les looked up to Race. He also saw that Race had a soft spot for his little brother. David knew Les would be safe with Racetrack, so he continued to let him take care of him.

The night Crutchy got taken by the police was the night Racetrack decided he needed a break from all the chaos. He decided to take Les to a game of poker in Midtown. He figured he could try and get more newsies with them while he was there. Les seemed aw struck from the moment they walked in the door. Race sat down in front of Spot and some other boys from Brooklyn.

"Hey Race, how's da strike?" Spot laughed.

Racetrack glared a little, "It'd be a lot better if ya joined us."

Spot glared back, "So is dat da only reason ya came tonight? Ya thought if ya brought da kid, I'd agree to join ya sorry saps?"

Racetrack smiled, "No Spot, I just came to play cards."

Spot smirked and they began to play.

Les watched the game intently. He learned how to play from Race, but decided not to play against anyone. He stood behind Racetrack and watched. Race's hand was good, but Race seemed to show that on his face, so he decided to use some of Jack's acting lessons.

"Low numbers are bad right?"

Racetrack eyed Les, whose expression never changed.

Spot and the other boys laughed, "Looks like bringing da kid was a good idea after all." Spot sat down his hand, it was good, but not better than Race's.

Racetrack smiled, "Yeah, Spot it was a good idea. Ace's over eights." He sat down his cards laughing, which caused Spot to glare.

Spot glare soon turned into a smile, "What's ya'r name kid?"

"Les."

"Les, huh? Well Les, I like ya."

Les had heard some of the stories about Spot, so he knew having his approval was a very good thing. Les just hoped that Spot would join the strike.

Racetrack and Les headed out after the game. Les could not stop smiling and neither could Race, he was proud of the kid. "Ya know Les, I really think you could have a future in acting, or somethin'. Ya should meet me friend Medda, you could learn a lot from her."

Les looked up at Racetrack, "I already met Medda. She's amazing." Les got the same look in his eyes that Racetrack did when he thought of Medda.

"She is somthin' ain't she?"

They continued to walk back to the square where they were meeting David and Jack. He hoped they got Crutchy out of the refuge, if not, then tomorrow they would have to take some sort of action on the Delancy's and anyone else who would not join.

When they got back, Racetrack could immediately tell that their mission was not a success. Jack looked tired. Racetrack said goodbye to Les and handed him back off to David. He walked up to Jack and offered him a cigarette, he took it gratefully and they stood watching the stars for a moment.

"So no luck with Crutchy den?"

Jack shook his head, "Da Delancy's woirked 'em over too much, he didn't want to come."

Racetrack thought about going after the Delancy's right then, but he could tell there was more on Jack's mind.

"Ya know Race, maybe dis was a bad idea. Maybe we'se should just go back to sellin'. I mean it ain't like we'se not what we're doin' here or nothin'."

Racetrack rolled his eyes, "You got us into dis mess Cowboy and ya'r gettin' us out of it. Don't make Crutchy's time in the refuge be for nothin'. So what if we don't what we're doin', we can't just let Pulitzer beat us dat easy."

Jack smiled, "Yeah ya'r right Race. Tomorrow we won't let no scabs sell, we'se gotta win dis."

00000000

The next day all the boys stood outside the distribution office waiting to stop anyone trying to sell papers. Before they knew it though they were running towards the gate about to soak anyone that got in there way. Racetrack ran up to gates and realized that something did not feel right. A large group of men with weapons came out swinging. Racetrack ran and then all chaos broke loose. It seemed out of nowhere; Spot and his boys were there to help save the day and the newsies triumphed over Pulitzer again. The boys got their picture in the paper and were all soaking in the fame they were about to receive.

Denton was putting his camera away when Racetrack strutted over. "Ya know Denton, last night I'se had a little chat with Spot, and I think dat is what really got 'em here."

Denton looked at Race and smiled, "Racetrack the hero, huh?"

Race smiled, "Da hero…hey I like dat. Ya think maybe ya could write and article 'bout me sometime…since today's great achievement was because of me?"

Denton tried not to laugh, "We'll see Race; there might be room in there somewhere for you."

Spot strode up behind Race, "Hero?" He began to laugh.

"Hey shut up, I must of done somethin' last night to get ya here."

Spot smiled, "You and da kid didn't hoirt, but I got more eyes in dis city dan ya know Race." He clapped him on the shoulder and walked away.

Racetrack did not let Spot's words bring his ego down. Today, in his mind, he was the hero.

00000000

The next day Racetrack was in aw when he saw his face in the paper. He was a little disappointed that his name was not mentioned anywhere else, but that disappointment soon changed when they decided to throw a rally for the newsies. He knew exactly what Jack was planning, which meant he got to spend an entire night with Medda. Racetrack smiled to himself and hurried back to the lodging house to gather his best clothes.

The night of the rally, Racetrack made sure he was there early. He wanted to get up front so he could see Medda. Soon enough hundreds of boys from all over New York filed in. They were excited, holding signs of their burrows. Racetrack felt like this might actually end the strike and get things back to normal. He could not believe how far they had come from a few days before. It started out as just a few of them and now there were too many to count. It seemed like all of New York showed up.

Everything was going great; Jack and Spot agreed to work together, Medda had performed beautifully, and Racetrack got up on stage with her. It seemed like the best night they could ever have, but then the bulls showed up. Racetrack's first thought was to protect Medda. He was already standing next to her and immediately put his hand around her waist to shuffle her out of the room. Medda was protesting, but Racetrack shoved her in Toby's hands. Once Medda was safe Racetrack was running to help everyone out, but then some goon punched him in the face. He fell, catching himself on the bridge railing. The world was fading away and the last thing Racetrack heard was Medda calling his name.

0000000000

When Racetrack woke up, he could still hear someone calling his name. His first instinct was to start swinging so he did. The rally was chaos and he imagined that it still was, so he was ready to fight anyone in his way.

"I'll soak ya!"

"Race! Race! Stop! Ya'r fine!" He heard more voices this time.

"Huh?" Racetrack cracked his eyes open and realized that he wasn't at Medda's anymore. He was in a small concrete room. It was full of roughed up newsies, almost all from Manhattan, but a few from other boroughs. He figured they must be in the refuge. Racetrack put a hand up to his eye and winced. He got punched hard. He heard a laugh from behind him and noticed Spot secluded in the corner away from everyone else. "What are you laughin' at huh?"

Spot shook his head and smiled, "I just find it funny watchin' ya flail around like dyin' fish is all."

Racetrack rolled his eyes and then smiled. The image of him flailing seemed funny so he began to laugh. Soon all the boys were laughing. They all knew that they could be put in the refuge for a long time. Racetrack worried about himself as well because he was older than most the other newsies. He was already nineteen and could get sent to prison. None of the newsies slept that night, too anxious about the day to come.

The next day their anxious thoughts were put to rest when Denton paid their fines, and they got off. Racetrack and Spot had insulted the judge. Though Racetrack was very serious when he asked the judge is he wanted to roll for his freedom. They were all happy until the bulls brought Jack in. They all found out his real name was not Jack, his mother was dead, and his father was in jail. They were not out west trying to find a home like Jack always said. Racetrack always had his suspicions with all the western books Jack read. He had a feeling it was all just fantasy.

Right after being released from court all the newsies found out that Denton was leaving. Racetrack did not know what was going to happen. First they lost Jack and now Denton, their two strongest connections in the strike. As soon as David said they were going to break Jack out, Racetrack was right by his side ready to help.

That night Racetrack, David, Les, Kid Blink, Mush, and Boots all set out to rescue Jack. They went to the refuge to find that they were transporting Jack somewhere else. David decided to follow the carriage on his own and shoved Les into Racetrack's arms. Racetrack put his hands on Les' shoulder just in case he decided to chase after his brother.

"It's gonna be okay kid. David will fix everythin'. Come on we'se better get back to the square."

Once they were back at the square, they sat on the Horace Greeley statue in silence. All of them were anxious about Jack and what was going to happen with the strike. It felt that if Jack did not come back then all hope was lost.

Les looked up at Racetrack, "What if David can't get Jack out?"

Racetrack patted him on the head, "Don't worry kid, ya'r brother's da best person for da job." Racetrack reached in his pocket and pulled out his cards. "Say, why don't we play cards until they get back?"

Les smiled and sat down to play.

After what seemed like hours Boots got up from his spot on the ground, "Hey, I see David!"

The rest of the boys got up and looked. Mush said what everyone was thinking, "Jack ain't with 'em."

David walked up the boys, he looked mad.

Les ran up to his brother, "Where Jack?"

David put his hand on his little brother's shoulder and looked at all the boys. He said nothing, but shook his head. At that moment all the boys knew that this could be the end of their strike. They had no idea what to do. They went into the lodging house and waited for the next day and maybe a new light to shine on them. Only the youngest of the boys got sleep that night, the rest of the boys were too anxious.

David left early before the sun came out. No one said anything when he left. Racetrack looked over to Les who was sound asleep. He began to think about how lucky he was to be innocent. Racetrack had lost both of his parents before the age of nine and had been forced to live on his own in the streets. Les still had his entire family and a home to go to every night, but yet he was there living like the newsies did. Racetrack wished that Les could stay innocent forever and not have to see the real world for what it was.

00000000

The next day was chaotic. All the newsies were outside the distribution center when a wagon full of papes made its way through the crowd. It was hot out, the newsies were tired and they were on edge. Many boys had begun to fight. David ran up to Racetrack asking for help. Racetrack was just as irritated as the rest of the boys and shrugged him off. The strike seemed to go one forever and Racetrack was finally at his end. He along with most the other boys were thinking about sucking it up and buying papers again. Spot dragged him out of his thoughts when he asked if he was seeing things. Racetrack stood in shock at he saw Jack dressed like a scab. A scab.

The first thing Racetrack thought was jumping through the crowd and soaking Jack right there. Spot tried, but Race along with five other boys had to drag him away. While David went to talk to Jack, Racetrack thought over what had happened. He was more confused than angry. What on Earth could have possessed this boy, the boy who had saved him all those years ago and become one of the greatest newsies in New York, change sides like that? Jack, Cowboy, had always stood against scabs and everything they stood for, but now here he was working right under Pulitzer after the speeches and protests. Racetrack felt like his whole friendship had been a lie. Seize the day; what a load of garbage.

It hurt Racetrack even more to see what Jack's sudden change had done to everyone else. They all felt betrayed and hurt, but no one more than little Les. He was in denial; hoping that Jack had just become a spy. Racetrack patted his face and agreed just to make the kid feel better. Now they really had no hope, what were they going to do without a leader?

Everyone was down, Spot had gone back to Brooklyn, and everyone was moping around the lodging house. Racetrack laid on his bed chewing on his cigar. Tomorrow things would go back to normal, they had lost the strike and now they had to get on with their lives. The quiet room suddenly became noisy when little steps hurried up the stairs. Racetrack sat up and looked at the door. Les ran in out of breath, he walked up to Racetrack.

Racetrack put his cigar down and put a hand on Les' shoulder, "Just breathe kid, what's up?"

"Jack's makin' a paper! One about da strike to get all everyone together and rally against Pulitzer!"

"Whoa, what?"

Les looked around the room, "He needs everyone to start deliverin' the paper! We need to get the word out!"

No one moved, instead they all just stared at Les, not sure if this was something he had just made up or not.

Racetrack looked Les in the eye. He saw hope, something even the kid had lost last time he saw him. Racetrack looked at his friends, "Well what are we waitin' for, Cowboy needs us!"

All the newsies smiled and filed out the door. They followed Les the distribution office and found Jack, David, Sarah, and Denton tying up newspapers. They all smiled and grabbed a stack of papes.

Racetrack headed towards Midtown, giving the paper to anyone that could read. Swifty and Itey had left for Brooklyn early on to give word to Spot. Everyone was a little shocked they volunteered, but Racetrack was not complaining, he did not want to be on Spot's grumpy side in the morning.

By mid-afternoon all the papers were handed out and it was time to wait. They were all supposed to meet at the square, right in front on the World building. They had been there all afternoon and no one but the Manhattan newsies had shown up. Racetrack knew that was there last attempt that the strike, deep down he knew that it would never work, but part of him really hoped they would win. Les was starting to lose hope again, but he still tried. Racetrack slapped him on the hat to let him know that they had given in their best.

Racetrack sighed, but then he heard something. A low roar coming from every direction. He grabbed Kid Blink and pointed to an alley way were he saw hundreds of people. He noticed Kid was pointing the opposite direction. He looked and there were more people. It looked like all of New York had arrived at the square. Every borough showed up. Even people that were not newsies came like the messengers and factory workers. For the first time since the strike had begun, Racetrack felt like they actually had a chance; even more so than at the rally, because now, they had everyone on their side.

Jack and David went up to Pulitzer's office while everyone else had to wait outside. Time seemed to go on forever before the crowd spotted Jack open the window to Pulitzer's office. Racetrack smiled, they were small, but Jack looked like he was really getting on Pulitzer's nerves. Jack and David would end the strike, Racetrack was certain of it.

Soon after that Racetrack heard Spot yelling that Jack and David were coming out through another door. They all rushed over to find out what happened. Jack whispered something in Les' ear then raised him up on his shoulders and yelled "We beat 'em!"

The crowd roared and Racetrack felt like the buildings surrounding them might collapse. They won, they had actually won. Things would go back to the way they were and no one would get stepped on again. The newsies finally gave hope to everyone in the city.

Their celebration was cut short when Jack had decided to take up off. Racetrack could not believe him; he knew that it was Cowboy's dream to go to Santa Fe, but after everything they had all been through, why would he leave like that? Manhattan finally had a leader and a good one at that. As much at Racetrack did not want Jack to go, he was happy for him anyway, he followed the carriage and waved goodbye.

After Jack was gone they heard the circulation bell start ringing. All the boys were very excited to get their papers at the same price. Racetrack noticed that David had gone first and he realized that David and kid who barely knew anything about being a newsie, was taking Jack's place as leader. Racetrack finally liked David, but he wished Jack had not left. As if on cue Teddy Roosevelt's carriage came back with Jack on it. He was staying. Now the newsies really had something to celebrate.

Everyone got their papers for the day and followed Jack into the streets, just like they had so long before. Everything would go back to normal now, but Manhattan was going down in history for what they had started.

00000000

**AN: Wow that was a long chapter! But I did not want a repeat of Spot's Story, because that was just awful. I hoped you enjoyed and thought there was not too much movie overlap. I really tried to make it as original as possible. Thanks so much for reading! I finally know exactly where this story is going, but I'm not sure how much more there is…a few chapters at least! Thanks again! **


	20. A New Day

**Thank you Aurora Scriptor for reviewing!**

00000000

Things had changed a lot since the strike. Everyone in New York began to treat the newsies different since their rally in front of the World Building. Everyone did not think of them as scum and street rats. There were the occasional snooty rich people that stuck their noses at the newsies, but generally they were more liked. The newsies had changed the cities aspect on them and other low class workers. Racetrack and the others had even gained a few tips while selling on the streets. Of course it was only a matter of time before things went back to the way they were, but for now the newsies were being treated with respect, and Racetrack liked it.

One day Racetrack decided it was time to take Les with him to the track. He had asked David the day before, who said it would be okay as long as they were careful. As soon as Racetrack told Les, his face lit up and he would not stop talking about it. On the way to Brooklyn, Les sold almost all his papers. Racetrack had to admit, Cowboy had taught the kid well, he even got a few tips.

"Ya really are a natural at dis kid." Racetrack slapped Les' hat and they continued walking.

Once they got to the track Les' eyes widened. There were a lot of people there, all displaying different emotions. He followed Racetrack to the betting window. Racetrack was looking at a board with all the horses' names and odds on it. Racetrack looked down at Les.

"Pick one kid, we'll see how lucky ya are."

Les surveyed the board until he saw one that stood out, "There's one named Cowboy Jack."

Racetrack smiled to himself. Cowboy Jack's odds were not great, but Racetrack had seen those kind of horses win before. "Alright kid, we'll put some money on him."

Les took a dime out of his pocket and handed it to Race, "Here,"

"Thanks kid," Racetrack took the dime and added it to his money and went up to the window to bet on Cowboy Jack. The woman behind the window eyed Les and then Racetrack, not many kids Les' age came to the track. Racetrack ignored the look and put his money down, "I need to put fifty cents on Cowboy Jack, win, place, show." Racetrack handed over the money and took the ticket the woman gave him.

After Racetrack left the window, he and Les went towards the track and found a good spot to see the race. When the race started Racetrack could not help but smile at Les' face. He had never seen the kid light up like that before. After a while Racetrack looked back at the horse race and noticed that their horse was in second place. He had placed a bet on the horse if he came in first, second, or third, so the odds were looking very good for them. Racetrack began cheering the horse on and Les began doing the same thing. As the horses rounded the track, Racetrack and Les watched in anticipation. Cowboy Jack was just behind the first horse as they crossed the finish line.

"Yes!" Racetrack smiled and looked at Les, "We got second!" He put his hands on Les' shoulders and shared in the excitement.

Les could not stop smiling.

"I swear kid, ya'r a good luck charm. Come on, let's get out winnings."

They walked back to the collection window. They did not win a whole lot, but it was enough for Racetrack to bet again and give some to Les. They stayed at the track for a few more hours. Race continued to let Les pick the horses and they won one and lost one so they ended up with a few more cents than what they came with. On the way back, Racetrack offered to buy Les lunch for being a natural at horse betting.

As soon as they got back to the square Les nearly tackled David and began telling him about the day they had. Racetrack could not help but laugh at the kid; he was talking faster than David could hear.

Jack smiled and looked at Les, "Sounds like you have a big day kid."

"Yeah it was amazing!" Once Les had calmed down a little bit, he yawned.

David smiled, "Thanks for takin' 'em Race, he won't have any trouble sleepin' tonight." David had Les jump on his back so he could carry him home on piggy back.

Les looked at Racetrack before they walked away, "Can I go with you again to the track Race?"

Racetrack smiled, "Of course kid, you'se my good luck charm." He winked, waved goodbye, and walked over to Kid Blink and Mush, who were playing dice.

"Hey, just won at da track. Mind if I take ya'r money?" They all laughed and Race sat down and joined the dice game.

000000000

**AN: Thanks for reading! Sorry this is so short; it was mostly a filler chapter. The next chapter is going to be really dramatic, so yay! Thanks again! **


	21. Gone

**Thank you NewsiesRacetrack88 for reviewing!**

00000000

Ever since Racetrack brought Les to Sheepshead the kid had been bugging him to bring him back. Everyday Racetrack told him to ask David and occasionally he agreed, but most of the time David said no. He believed that it was not good to be around gambling that much. David was not sure what Les would learn from the older guys that spent their time at the racetrack. As much as Racetrack wanted Les to grow up and be just like him, he knew that David was right. Les had more opportunities than Race did and he should not be influenced by Racetrack's lifestyle.

When Racetrack first woke up he looked out the window and noticed snow falling down around the city. As beautiful as the first snowfall was it meant that there would be a long hard winter ahead of them. Some of the younger boys were crammed in front of the window staring with wide eyes and big smiles plastered on their faces.

One of the boys turned to him, "Isn't dis great?"

Racetrack rolled his eyes, "Sure kid, _great_." He went to the bathroom to wash his face and get ready for the day.

After Racetrack was finished getting ready he went to his bunk and started looking under it for the coat Medda had given him. Every winter he loved Medda more and more, if that was even possible. Racetrack followed all the newsies out the door and to the distribution office. The snow and wind seemed to pick up acting like a sign for the day Racetrack would have. The only good thing out of it was seeing all the younger kids playing. They were trying to catch snowflakes on their tongues. Some were even holding out their hands in hopes of collecting enough to make snowballs. Although the snow was sticking it had barely covered the streets, so unless it stayed snowing like that all day the kids would have to wait a while to have a snowball fight.

Once Racetrack got his papers, he waited around to catch a ride with the news paper guys. They were not going all the way to Sheepshead, but they were going about halfway there, which would cut Race's walking time significantly. When the cart stopped the snow had started to let up a little, Race hoped that meant by the time he came home it would have stopped altogether. Racetrack found his normal customers at the track and sold most of his papers off pretty quick. After scanning the horses Racetrack found that Cowboy Jack was racing. Racetrack smiled to himself and remembered the good luck he had with Les on that horse. He decided to try the horse's luck again and bet on him.

Unfortunately for Racetrack Cowboy Jack was not doing very good today. He got second to last. Racetrack wished he would have brought Les with him, maybe then he would have better luck with winning. Although the horse lost Racetrack could not help but keep betting. One thing Race was really bad at was stopping when he should. It was in his blood to keep going until he got some money, so he could not stand to walk away from a losing horse. Racetrack went back to the betting window and made another bet on a new horse. Its odds were good, so he thought it would get him a little money. But this horse got fifth place. Racetrack swore and decided to try again, so he bet, but again the horse lost.

By midday Racetrack was more than furious at his luck. After another horse had lost, Racetrack went back up to the window and bet on a random horse out of anger. He watched the horses take off and watched his horse run around the track. It was a beautiful dark brown and black horse with a very shiny coat. He watched it as it gained speed and passed the other horses. Soon enough it was in second place.

"Yeah, come on!" His luck finally seemed to shape up. Racetrack smiled with wide eyes as the horse was nearing the finish line. All he wanted was to win, even though he knew at this point he would not get all his money back.

Just as Racetrack's luck seemed to change the horse began to slow down, and it was not just a little bit, this horse seemed to be letting the other horses pass by it on purpose. It ended up in the middle somewhere with a mass of other horses around it and finished no where near first.

"No! He cheated!" Racetrack was irate at this point. That horse was winning, but then all of a sudden it just slowed down. The jockey must have done something to the horse, he was a cheater and Race knew it.

He stomped up to the betting window and looked at the woman behind the counter. "My horse cheated! I can't be da only one who thinks so!"

The woman rolled her eyes slightly, "I'm sorry, but all bets are final."

Racetrack knew that no one would look into the situation, so he left dropping several curses in Italian. He walked quickly down the Brooklyn streets still furious. At least it had stopped snowing a few hours earlier. He was not sure how long he walked until he heard someone call his name. Racetrack stopped and looked up.

"Oh, hey Spot."

Spot smirked, "Tough day at da track?"

Racetrack huffed, "Tough? Tough! It wasn't tough, I'se got cheated! Dat guy did somethin' to dat horse I know it!"

Spot laughed a little to himself, ""Okay den…I'se gotta head back, maybe tomorrow will be better, yeah?"

"Yeah, maybe, see ya." Racetrack was worked up again and began to mumble more curses under his breath. He walked back to the lodging house without really realizing getting there. It was not until he was on the front steps that he noticed he was in Manhattan.

Racetrack shrugged and went inside to get warm. Almost all the newsies were back at the house, which Race was used to. He was almost always last to get there. Dutchy noticed Racetrack's bummed look and went over to him.

"Bad day?"

Racetrack did not want to get worked up again so he just nodded.

"Wanna play some cards for marbles?"

Racetrack smiled a little, Dutchy could tell Race had just lost most, if not all, of his money at the track. Sometimes he would offer to play cards for something that was not money and only when Racetrack felt bad did he enjoy playing. He nodded and took his cards out of his pocket so they could enjoy a game.

0000000000

A few days later Racetrack was walking to Sheepshead. It was not snowing, but it seemed colder that it was the day before. Race noticed that there was a lack of Brooklyn newsies on the streets; in fact he did not see one. This was pretty strange, because most the newsies had certain spots they kept to everyday and if they did not keep to it; Spot would get angry. Racetrack instantly got a bad feeling and decided to go talk to Spot so he could put his mind at ease. Once Racetrack reached the Brooklyn lodging house Sneaks, Spot's second in command, cracked the door open.

"Whadda ya want?" Sneaks blocked the opening of the door, so Race could not see inside.

Racetrack could tell something was wrong the moment he opened the door, he looked upset and more defensive that usual, "Where's Spot?"

For a moment Sneaks did not say anything, "He ain't here."

"So where is he den?" Racetrack decided he was not going to leave until he got answers.

"It don't matter just leave it." Sneaks was about to shut the door when Racetrack stopped it from shutting.

"Sneaks, what happened?" Racetrack was getting worried now.

Sneaks sighed and opened the door, "I guess everyone's gotta know sometime."

Racetrack walked in and noticed a few newsies at the table holding identical expressions as Sneaks. After a moment of scanning the room Racetrack looked back at Sneaks, who had shut the door.

"So…"

Sneaks leaned against the wall, "Last night, Spot killed Grim."

He could not believe this; he had just seen Spot a few days before, "What? Da last leader of Queens!" Racetrack stared wide eyed. He knew Spot could be a tough guy when he was mad and they had a rival with Queens, but he never thought Spot would actually kill anyone. "Why would he do dat?"

"Ya remember Sour? Da leader before Spot?"

Racetrack nodded, "Yeah."

"Well Grim killed him last night too. Grim always had a problem with Sour and Spot, so he knew dis would get rid of both them." He saw Racetrack's look of disbelief, "Yeah, and now he's gone, skipped town, and not coming back."

"Wow, I-I don't believe dis." Racetrack was trying to get his head around the news. "So you're da leader of Brooklyn now?"

Sneaks nodded, "For now. Guess I got big shoes to fill."

Racetrack stayed quiet for a moment, until a thought jumped in his head, "If Spot killed Grim is dere gonna be a retaliation or turf war or somethin' since he used to be Queens' leader?" He knew things could get ugly for everyone if Queens and Brooklyn decided to fight each other.

Sneaks shook his head, "No, I talked to the leader, Pinky, he didn't want a war as much as I don't, even they didn't like Grim dat much. No, things will be just like they always have."

Racetrack stared bewildered for a moment before deciding to leave, "I'se gotta tell everyone 'bout dis."

Sneaks nodded, "Yeah."

Race was walking out the door when he figured it would be good to say something to Sneaks, "Ya know, ya'll make a good leader too." And then he walked out the door and ran back to Manhattan.

It was still early in the morning so none of the newsies were back yet; he decided to go round them up, because he figured they should all know as soon as possible. They gathered around the Horace Greely statue and listened to what Racetrack had to say.

He got up in front of everyone and quieted them down, "I was went to see the Brooklyn newsies today and dey told me Spot killed Grim last night and now he's ran outta town."

There was and uproar of questions and comments about what Race had just told them. He repeated everything Sneaks had said to him. He told them there would be no fights against Queens and Brooklyn as far as he knew, and that Sneaks was leader now. He told them that Spot was not coming back, but Sneaks seemed like he was going to keep everything the same. All the boys were stunned at the news, they, just like Race, could not believe Spot would kill someone. All of them wondered what was going to happen now that Spot was out of the picture. It made a lot of the newsies worried that soon enough everyone would disappear from one reason or another. First the strike, then the rumors about a delivery system starting, and now this. The world they had created seemed to be crumbling one brick at a time.

0000000000

**AN: I am so sorry that this took forever again! I'm trying a new system out to write fanfiction better and more often, so hopefully that will happen! So this chapter definitely was not going to be about just this, but it ended up turning into a chapter of its own. I would have written the next chapter onto this, but I feel that what is going to happen next deserves to be by itself. Thanks so much for reading and again I apologize for the lateness! **


	22. Regret

**Thank you Aurora Scriptor for reviewing!**

00000000

Three months had passed since Spot ran out of town and no one had seen him since. Things did not change much for most of the newsies after he left. Brooklyn seemed to be getting meaner by the day, Sneaks had a lot to live up to so he tried extra hard to make sure he did not let Spot down. Racetrack however was changing. He was getting older, a lot of newsies were. Everyday he seemed to be going through the motions; he would sell papers at Sheepshead then gamble most of it away. He was not sure what he was doing anymore.

Race came back early one day from the track and was sitting on his bunk. He took out his Dad's watch and stared at the ten fifty seven that was forever stuck on the face. Race wished more than ever he could talk with his father and ask him for some guidance. He felt lost.

"You okay?" Racetrack looked up to see Dutchy standing in front of him.

"Oh hey, yeah. Just thinkin' is all."

Dutchy smiled a bit, "Somethin' particular on your mind?"

Racetrack shrugged, "I just ain't sure what I'm doin' here anymore."

Dutchy sighed, "Yeah, I know dat feelin'. I think most of us ain't sure anymore. We'se gettin' old Race and it's 'bout time we found a new line of woirk."

Racetrack raised his head up, "It's gonna be weird not waking up here anymore."

Dutchy nodded, "With Kloppman in our ears."

"Leavin' everyone."

"We all gotta grow up sometime Race."

"Yeah, I know. What are you gonna do?"

Dutchy shrugged, "I don't know, maybe find a factory job somewhere."

Racetrack nodded, "Yeah, maybe I can get a job a Sheepshead, muck out the horses or somethin'." Dutchy began to laugh. "What?"

"If ya get a job there then you'll just spend all dey give ya before ya leave everyday."

Racetrack smiled, "Yeah, you're probably right."

After their laughter died down Dutchy looked back up at Race, "Hey, ain't there a poker game in Midtown tonight?"

Racetrack nodded, "Yeah."

"Mind if ya have some company?"

Racetrack smiled.

00000000

It was nice to go to Midtown with Dutchy, it made Racetrack feel like when he was little again and they were best friends. He figured that this was one of their last nights as newsies and friends. Soon they would be leaving to find work and would probably never see each other again. But tonight they were both determined to set aside the gloom and have fun.

The poker game in Midtown had changed over the past few years. It was still fun and Racetrack had not lost his touch, but there was no longer a leaders table like there used to be. Everyone was sort of mixed up now and no eyes were glued to one particular spot. Some familiar faces were there, a lot of Racetrack's friends, who were all playing with him and Dutchy. But there were also a few faces Racetrack wished he had not seen. A few guys that worked for Crazy Eights were playing poker on the other side of the room. Dutchy and Racetrack exchanged looks throughout the game, but the guys did not seem to take notice of Race.

As the night went on Racetrack's mood got better. His luck was with him, because he was beating almost everyone at the table. Occasionally he lost some money, but for the most part he was making more than he started. Racetrack really needed the night out, he spent it laughing, telling stories, and forgetting about all worries he had outside of Midtown.

By the end of the night Racetrack had cleaned up pretty well, and Dutchy pretty much broke even, but he had fun. When the game was finally over it was well into the late hours of the night, but the two boys were still very awake. They walked through the empty streets laughing and talking on their way back to the lodging house. What they failed to notice however was a few of the guys from the poker game following close behind them.

The two did not hear the footsteps of the men until it was too late. Somehow they had managed to cut around an alley and get in front of the two friends. Racetrack and Dutchy stopped when the saw the two guys block their way. Racetrack immediately recognized them as Crazy Eights' men and the guys he was worried about from the poker game. Race and Dutchy looked at each other then turned around, but there weretwo more guys standing behind them. He flipped out a knife which gave Racetrack enough incentive to grab Dutchy and duck around the guys to get away.

They ran blindly through the streets hoping they could find a bull or anyone to make the guys get off their tails. They continued to run, but there was no one around to help them. And before they knew it the guys were catching up. Crazy Eights' guys had circled around and cut Racetrack and Dutchy off, which caused the two to stop just in time for another guy to grab them. One guy threw Dutchy to the ground and kicked him enough times to make him not try to get up again. Two held Racetrack while the one with the knife approached him. Racetrack tried fighting but the two guys had a good grip on him. The guy with the knife punched Race in the stomach causing him to double over. He reached into Racetrack's pocket and took out his winning's from the night.

"Ya aren't gonna be needin' this no more. Crazy Eights wants to collect the debt you owe." The knife showed in the moonlight and Racetrack's eyes widened.

"We'se settled dat years ago!" Racetrack struggled to get free.

The man smiled, "He was only humorin' you for Spot's sake, but now that he's outta da picture, Crazy wants ya gone too."

Dutchy saw the events about to occur, but he could not let it happen. The guy in front of him was more focused on Racetrack than him, so he managed to get up and push him out of the way. He ran towards the guys holding Racetrack and pushed them as hard as he could to the ground, but the guy with the knife grabbed his shoulder. He pulled Dutchy close and thrust the knife up into his chest.

Racetrack thought he was going to die, but all of sudden Dutchy was there pushing him out of the way. Racetrack was trying to get up from the ground to grab Dutchy and run, but when he looked up he saw Crazy's guy plunge a knife into his chest, Racetrack's eyes widened.

The man with the knife was looking into Dutchy's eyes, but spoke to Racetrack, "Ya see what happens when ya cross Crazy? People die." He threw Dutchy to the ground and called for his guys to run out of the alley.

For a few seconds Racetrack was still glued to his spot on the ground, but a gasp from Dutchy got him moving. He crawled over to where Dutchy lay and put his friend's head in his lap. He did not know what to do, there was so much blood; he tried putting his hand over the wound to stop the bleeding, but the warm liquid kept running through his fingers. Dutchy was gasping; trying to find words, but the knife punctured his lung and the blood was filling up quick.

Shock spread across Racetrack's face, "God, no…I'm…I'm sorry. Ya should have let them kill me!" Tears were falling off his face and onto his friend. "Somebody please help! We need help here!" He looked down at Dutchy whose light was fading fast. Dutchy's breathing was getting slower and he began to shut his eyes. Racetrack shook him a little and held him closer to his chest, "No! Please don't die. This is all my fault."

Dutchy made a small cough and release of breath before he went completely still in Racetrack's arms. Racetrack tightened his grip on Dutchy and let the sobs escape him. He began screaming for help and was not sure how long before someone finally phoned the bulls.

When the bulls got there they had trouble ripping Racetrack away from Dutchy, but eventually they got Racetrack into a police wagon and Dutchy on his way to the morgue. When they got to the police station Racetrack told them that they were jumped on the street and did not know the men who attacked them. He knew better than to snitch on any of Crazy Eights' guys.

The bulls took Racetrack back to the lodging house in the early morning. The newsies did not have to sell that day, so everyone was going to be there. He was not sure he could face them now. He walked up the steps and into through the door. He had not realized he was covered in Dutchy's blood, until Kloppman gasped and asked if he was alright.

Racetrack tried to speak, but more tears came out.

Kloppman put his hands on the boy's shoulder, "My boy, what happened?"

Racetrack looked up at the man and felt like he was seven again, small and overwhelmed by the big world around him. "D-Dutchy." It was barely a whisper, but it was enough for Kloppman to understand.

The old man's eyes sank and watered a little. "The others should know." He headed towards the stairs.

"No." Racetrack looked up and Kloppman stopped, "I should do it."

Kloppman nodded and clapped Race on the shoulder as the boy headed up the steps. It felt like the longest walk he had ever taken, but Race wished it has gone on longer, because he was not ready to face the others.

The boys were up and almost ready for the day, but they all froze when they saw Racetrack standing in the doorway covered in blood. His face was tear streaked. The boys were too scared to ask what happened, because they all noticed the same thing. Dutchy had left with Race, but he was not here now.

As leader and Racetrack's friend, Jack hesitantly stepped forward. "Race?" He was afraid to ask, because he already knew, "Where's Dutchy?"

Racetrack's breath hitched in his throat and he shook his head, "He saved me, it's my fault, he-"

The same expression painted every face in the room. Some had to sit, while others stood frozen. Jack was the only one to try and take care of a shocked Racetrack. He led him to the washroom so he could clean up. Everyone loved Dutchy and it was hard to imagine him suddenly gone from the world he had always known.

00000000

**AN: I know I am a horrible person, but I promise Dutchy's death was important for the story to progress. It is almost done though and I think has maybe two chapters left. Thanks so much for reading and I hoped you enjoyed! **


	23. Decision

**Thank you Aurora Scriptor for reviewing!**

**AN: So I just saw that this story was placed in the Romance Heaven community…which is odd because there isn't a scrap of romance in this story haha…I hope none of you think Racetrack and Dutchy's relationship is slash, because it is not, they are just friends. I suppose Racetrack's infatuation with Medda may have gotten that story in there, but I am not sure…so if anyone could tell me why it is there that would be awesome! Rant done and back to the story! **

00000000

Racetrack had not talked much since that night. He told the boys what had happened, but that was about it. A lot of the other boys could not bear to look at Racetrack, and he knew why. It was his fault that Dutchy was killed. He hated himself for getting caught up in Crazy Eights' world, he never thought anything like this would happen. A few of the boys tried to help Racetrack out, Jack in particular. He tried his best to be there for Race and help him when he could, but the boy did not want to accept any kindness given to him.

Now Racetrack was staring at a brown coffin being lowered into the ground. Denton was nice enough to fund the funeral. All the newsies were there, along with Kloppman, Denton, Medda, and David's family. Even some newsies from other boroughs had shown up. Everyone that ever cared about Dutchy was there, and even some who barely knew him. A lot of them had plotted revenge against the guys that did it, but Racetrack told them no. He knew that if a borough war started, more lives would be lost. Losing one friend was bad enough.

As Dutchy was being lowered into the ground, the crowd began to thin out. The service was over, so most people left. First it was the ones that barely knew Dutchy and went from there. After a few minutes all that remained were the few newsies who spent most of their time with Dutchy. They were all silent not wanting to shed tears over their fallen friend, but some could not help it. Racetrack's eyes teared up, but the drops never fell, he did his crying the night it happened.

Racetrack reached into his pocket and pulled out his pocket watch. The time was still stuck on ten fifty-seven, the time his father died. Racetrack thought about how far his life had come since then and what it would have been like if his dad had never died. Racetrack closed his eyes and held the pocket watch to his chest, so much had changed sine that night, yet he felt like he was that little boy again, scared and alone. Racetrack opened his eyes and walked to the edge of Dutchy's grave.

"I'm sorry."

Racetrack took the watch away from his chest and held it over the grave. He lowered it a little, closed his eyes and dropped it in. He heard the thud as it hit the coffin. Racetrack did not want to cry, but a few silent tears fell down his cheek. The grave diggers were waiting around to fill the hole; Racetrack looked at one of them and nodded. He did not move though, he just stood and watched as the poured dirt into the grave.

"You okay kid?" Racetrack felt a hand on his shoulder. It belonged to Medda.

"It's my fault."

"Sweetie, don't say that." She squeezed his shoulder.

Racetrack shook his head. "No, I got in with those guys a long time ago, and they were after me. He would have been fine if he hadn't tried to save me. It should have been me that night, not him."

Medda yanked Racetrack around to face her and put her other hand on his shoulder. "Racetrack, don't you dare think that it should have been you. Dutchy saved your life and if you think like that, it would have been for nothin'. Do you hear me?"

Racetrack grabbed Medda's hand and gave her a sad smile. "Yeah, I hear ya."

"Good, now go get some rest kid, you need it." She put her hand on his cheek and walked away.

Racetrack took one last look at Dutchy's grave and made his way back to the lodging house. A lot of the boys had gone to Tibby's to talk about all the good times with Dutchy, while others wandered the streets not ready to face the world yet. A few had gone back to the lodging house. Race walked past all the silent boys and into the washroom, he looked at himself in the mirror. He looked older than he did a few days before; his eyes were dark and tired. Racetrack washed his face and walked back into the bunk room.

He went straight to Dutchy's bunk and sat on it. No one questioned him, but several looked down in sadness. Racetrack looked at Dutchy's pillow thinking how the boy would never sleep on it again. He put his hand on it, but when he took it away he moved the pillow a bit and noticed an object underneath. Racetrack slipped his hand under the pillow and pulled out a book. It was the _early learners_ book he had bought Dutchy all those years ago to help him read. He must have kept under his pillow all this time. Racetrack knew he used to pull it out to occasionally, but he figured Dutchy would have thrown it out after all this time.

Racetrack flipped through the pages and found more than just the printed words. Dutchy had been teaching himself to read and write. He had copied almost every word in the page. In the extra spaces he had attempted to write his own words, a lot of them were wrong, but he had done well for learning alone. The misspelled words made Racetrack feel guilty for stopping their reading lessons. Dutchy had no one else to confide it with his illiteracy, and Racetrack was a lousy friend for giving up on him.

Every page was filled with letters and words, and Racetrack looked at every single one. He flipped through the pages until he saw something that caught his eye. On one of the pages there was a picture of two kids smiling at each other and underneath the picture it said friend. Next to the picture was his name written three times, Rasetrak, then Racetrak, and then finally Racetrack. The first two had lines through them and the last was underlined. Racetrack was not sure how long ago Dutchy had done it, but it did not matter. They were best friends and Dutchy never forgot that, Racetrack wished he could take back everything bad he hand done over the years and go back to the way things were before he met Crazy Eights. Racetrack had lost his best friend, and now all he had were the reminders of how horrible of a person he was.

Racetrack sat on Dutchy's bunk all night. Most of the newsies made their way back to the lodging house throughout the night and morning, but some did not come back at all. It was hard for a lot of the boys to sit in a room full of uncomfortable silence. Jack was the last one to come in for the night. He felt responsible for everything in a way. He was the leader and he felt like he should have kept a better watch on Racetrack and what he was into. He should have done something, or been there. He knew he was not leader to hold their hands through life, or even pry into the boys business, but he just wished he would have been able to do something.

Out of everyone though, Racetrack still felt guiltier than the others; he felt as if he stabbed Dutchy himself. By morning Race was not sure if he could take seeing everybody's face each day. He was not sure if he could continue to sell papers and go through his day to day with the constant reminder of what happened. The more Racetrack thought about it, the more he realized there was no way he could do it. Sure one day the other boys would forget and they would smile again, and not give him the same look, but Racetrack would always remember.

He was getting too old to be a newsie anyway. A lot of the boys were getting too old. There were talks of a lot of them leaving and soon they all would. The young ones would stay and new kids would come, that's how it happened. Racetrack decided then and there that being a newsie just was not for him anymore; really he quit being a newsie a long time ago, he just did not realize it.

With his decision made, Racetrack finally got up off of Dutchy's bunk and gathered what little things he had. He threw everything in a pillow case; all he really had were some clothes, cigars, cards, dice, and Dutchy's book. He touched his chest where his pocket watch used to rest; the empty space reminded him of his father and Dutchy. The boys noticed Racetrack packing, but none of them were that surprised.

Boots watched Racetrack get his things together. "Where ya gonna go?"

Racetrack stopped packing to look at Boots. "I don't know, Boston maybe. Just, somewhere else."

They understood, all of them, but that did not make it any easier to see another friend leave. Racetrack knew it would be hard too. He had lived there for almost his entire life and had never travelled outside of New York. But now he was packed up and ready to go. He said goodbye to all of the boys that were there. The ones that still had not come home did not want to see Racetrack anyway. On his way out Jack was standing in the door way, he stuck out his hand.

"It's been nice knowin' ya Race."

Racetrack smiled a little. "You too, Cowboy. Maybe we'll meet again someday."

Jack smiled. "Yeah, maybe we will."

Racetrack left the bunk room for the last time and walked down the stairs to the lodging desk. Kloppman was there, he knew the look on Racetrack's face, he had seen it in a hundred boys before him. The old man gave a sad smile and nod.

Racetrack leaned on the desk. "Uh, thanks Kloppman, for everythin'. Take care of the boys for me."

Kloppman pointed at the boy. "You be careful out there."

Racetrack nodded and left. He started to head to the train station when he thought of one last stop. He walked down the street remembering his life in Manhattan, until he reached his destination. He went inside the building and found what he was looking for.

"Hey sweet face." Racetrack walked up to Medda and kissed her on the hand.

The woman smiled, but it dropped when she saw the bag. "Ya goin' somewhere kid?"

"Leavin' for good, I think. Need a change of scene."

"I understand Racetrack, but I'm sure gonna miss you. Say if ya decide to stick around, I'll let ya work for me."

If it were a few weeks ago Racetrack would have melted at those words, but for now, he knew he had to go. "Sorry Medda, but it's time for me to leave."

"Alright, if ya ever come back, ya know where to find me."

Racetrack nodded. "Only the best Vaudeville house in New York."

She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. She was holding back tears, Racetrack really was a good kid and she hated to see him leave. He had been through so much; he deserved something good to come his way. She hoped that wherever he went, Racetrack would find it.

So that was it, Racetrack had done everything he needed to do before leaving. Part of him wanted to go to Sheepshead one last time, but he was not sure if he would be able to leave after that. The place had seemed more like a home than the lodging house and he would miss it. He would miss everything, but he knew this was what he had to do. With his bag over his shoulder Racetrack headed to the train station to start over and find somewhere new.

0000000000

**AN: Thanks so much for reading! One more chapter to go after this! I hope you like it, thanks again!**


	24. New Life

**Thank you Aurora Scriptor and Ealasaid Una for reviewing!**

**AN: Last chapter! Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! **

0000000000

It had been two years since Dutchy died and Racetrack left New York. He hopped on a train and went straight to Boston. He was not sure why Boston, but it was not New York and that is exactly what he wanted. Racetrack vowed to never sell another newspaper or gamble again. He managed to not do one of those things. Gambling was in Racetrack's blood, it was something he lived for and something he was good at, plus he needed money, and that was the best way to get it. Racetrack decided to never get caught up in underground gambling schemes again, he would never repeat his time with Crazy Eights; he couldn't. Racetrack would gamble where ever he could, he managed to get enough money from that to share a one bedroom apartment with two other people. It was not the best life, but Racetrack did not mind. His roommate told him about a poker game happening that night and of course Race could not resist a good card game.

The poker game was being held in the store room of an Italian restaurant. Racetrack has been to a few like this before and he usually got a good payout. Everything was always very secretive with those places. He needed a password and a weapons check, just in case anyone tried anything. The night was going normal for Racetrack as he entered the store room ready to play, but then he saw something he never thought he would again.

"Well, whatta ya know. Guess dis is a small woirld after all." The man at the head of the poker table shuffled the cards.

Racetrack shook his head. "I don't believe it." He sat down at the table. "Ya know a lot of people thought you was dead, Spot. What happened to ya?" Spot was looking good now, he had nice clothes, clean shaven, but he was older and harder looking. He had skipped town a long time ago and it seems that he ended up the same place Racetrack did.

Spot smiled. "Have ya tried da chicken parmesan here? It's excellent."

Racetrack smirked. He knew Spot well enough to know he would never say anything to him about all the rumors that happened after Spot left. That did not stop Spot from asking questions about Racetrack.

"So Race, what brings ya to my new neck of da woods?" He passed around the cards.

Racetrack grabbed his cards. "Got tired of being a newsie I guess, needed a change."

Spot nodded. "Yeah, I know da feelin'. Look, I hoird about Dutchy and I know ya two were close."

Racetrack smirked. "Ya still got boirds in New York don't ya?"

"Yeah, well it's nice to have eyes everywhere I think." He smirked and moved his cards around in his hand. "I hoird somethin' else recently too."

Racetrack put down a card and took another off the top of the deck. "Yeah, and what's dat?"

Spot mimicked the action. "Seems Crazy Eights is outta da picture now. Got busted a few months ago for his gamblin' ring, and got sentenced a long time in da big house. So it seems dat there's a job opening for anyone who qualifies. And dat my friend would be you."

"Yeah I got dat Spot, thanks." Racetrack rolled his eyes.

"Ya know, you'd be good at dat job. Pays well, if you could handle throwin' people 'round a bit."

Spot was right. Racetrack would be good at that job, he used to work for Crazy Eights, and he knew exactly how things worked around there. The whole crew got busted, so the job was up for grabs for whoever wanted it. A long time ago Racetrack would have jumped at that chance, but now he was not so sure. Racetrack tried to put those thoughts aside as they played cards, which lasted well into the night. Spot gave Racetrack a good run for his money, but in the end Racetrack came out the best, but only jsut. As Racetrack got up to leave with his winnings Spot stopped him.

"Ya goin' back aren't ya?" He folded his hands across his chest.

Racetrack put on his coat. "Don't think I can stay away."

"It was good seein' ya Race." Spot spit in his hand and held it out.

"You too Spot." Racetrack returned the jester and turned to leave when Spot spoke again.

"Oh and Race, tell anyone ya saw me, and I'll kill ya meself, got it?" Spot glared, but continued to smirk.

Racetrack laughed a little. "Yeah Spot, I'll never tell a soul." Spot was still the same, just like he'd always be.

Racetrack left the restaurant and headed back to his apartment. Tomorrow he would leave and go back to New York. He was not sure if he was ready to face his old home again, but he could not stay away any longer.

0000000

This first thing Racetrack noticed when he got off the train was how much New York had changed in two years. There were less newsies on the streets, he heard about the new home delivery system beginning, but it was weird to not see a million kids barking headlines on every street corner. As Racetrack walked through the streets of Brooklyn he thought about going back to Manhattan. He wanted to know who had gone and who was still a newsie. He wanted to see how Medda was. Part of Racetrack was not ready to go back there, but he knew he would have to sooner or later. Before Race could go back, he had to take care of a few things in Brooklyn, he had a job to get there so that was where he would stay.

It was midday when Racetrack decided to cross the Brooklyn Bridge into Manhattan. His first stop was to see Medda. He missed her smile and voice over the last two years. When he walked in he headed backstage and heard Medda rehearsing to the show that night. She was still as beautiful as ever. She was in a purple dress and was waving big feather fans around. Medda did not notice Racetrack when she walked off stage.

"Still got da voice of angel Medda."

When Medda saw Race, her face lit up, she had been worried about him since he left. "How ya been kid?" She hugged him.

Racetrack smiled. "Good, just got back from Boston, couldn't resist a visit to me favorite lady."

"Decided to rethink my job offer?"

"Naw, sorry Medda, but I got meself some business in Brooklyn."

"Well good for you kid." She put a hand on his cheek.

Racetrack stayed for a little longer, but he still needed to go to the lodging house. Race told Medda he would see her soon and headed to Duane Street. He was not sure what to expect. The place looked the same, it had not changed much when he lived there, so he was not surprised to see it the same. Racetrack was happy to see Kloppman still behind the ratted oak desk.

Kloppman squinted at Race for a moment. "Well I don't believe it. Racetrack, it's been a long time." The man gave a wheezy laugh.

Racetrack missed the old man's voice. "How ya doin' Kloppman?"

"Oh ya know, just keepin' everyone in line." The man laughed. "So ya lookin' for a place to stay tonight?"

Racetrack leaned on the counter. "Nah, I gotta place in Brooklyn, just thought I come see if anyone was still hangin' around."

"Oh, yeah, I think there are a few that have stuck around. Most of them are upstairs."

"Thanks Kloppman, it was good seein' ya." Race knocked on the counter and headed upstairs.

When Racetrack got upstairs he could hear the boys laughing and arguing, it reminded him of when he was a newsie. The first thing Racetrack noticed when he looked in the doorway was the decrease in newsies. There were still a lot, but he could tell every bed would not be full that night. He saw Boots and Snipeshooter playing cards on the ground.

"Ya boys wanna a real competitor?"

The boys smiled and walked up to Racetrack. They looked a little older, but still mostly the same. Race did notice a lot of new faces around the bunk room, mostly young kids. The main thing missing though was Jack.

Racetrack sat down on his old bunk out of habit. "So boys, what's been new 'round here?"

Snipeshooter and Boots sat on Snipeshooter's bed across from Race. Boots spoke up. "Things were different after Dutchy. A lot of us didn't want to be here no more."

"Yeah, not to mention business has been slow lately." Snipeshooter said.

Racetrack nodded. "Yeah, I noticed dat. So where is everybody?"

"Snoddy left right after you. Blink and Mush. Everyone just sorta began to leave one by one." Boots looked a little sad remembering his friends leave.

"What about Cowboy?"

Boots smiled. "He and David woirk for Denton now. Dey run a pape stand on the other side of 'Hattan."

Racetrack laughed. "Guess he really was born to sell papes."

"Seems like it." Snipes chewed on his cigar. "So Race ya up for a game of poker for old times sake?"

"Ya know I can't turn down a game of cards." Race pulled the cards he kept out of his pocket and began to shuffle.

The three boys, along with a few others, played cards for a few hours. Racetrack cleaned out pretty nice by the end of it, but he knew with his new job he would be making more money, so he let Boots win on the last game. The day was growing late and though Racetrack wanted to stay, there was still one last thing he needed to do. Racetrack said bye to everyone and headed out. He looked over at Dutchy's old bunk and felt like he was a newsie again. He could see everyone running around and having fun, but that faded soon and Racetrack was brought back to reality. Racetrack left and headed through the streets of Manhattan.

The sun was setting when Racetrack got to the cemetery. He stopped at the gates and almost turned back, but he had to see Dutchy. Racetrack took his time to the grave. When he got there he noticed that the grass has grown over the grave, it blended with all the other graves, it no longer stood out amongst the green. Two years had not meaning there. Racetrack sat down in front of Dutchy's tombstone.

**Isaac "Dutchy" Sanders**. Only Kloppman new Dutchy's real name, because of the old records he had pulled when the boy first became a newsie. He did not have a nickname yet and Racetrack had not known him. Racetrack remembered the day he asked Dutchy's name, the boy and would only tell him his nickname. Racetrack put his hand on the tombstone.

"It should be me under there Dutchy, not you. I guess I never got a chance to properly thank ya for what ya did. All ya ever tried to do was look out for me an' I never listened. You were always dere for me when I needed ya. You were the one dat helped me become a newsie. Ya helped me when I got scared or upset. And what did I ever do to thank ya, nothin' I gave up on ya." Racetrack touched the inner pocket of his jacket where Dutchy's reading book rested.

"I'm sorry for bein' such a lousy friend to ya. But I swear, I'm gonna make it up. I've got a real honest job now, well at least as honest as I can get. Dis ain't gonna all be for nothin'. Ya know it's just ain't da same without ya 'round here. I stopped by the lodging house today and everythin' was different. Not da place, it still looks just like it did the day ya brought me there." Racetrack laughed. "But da newsies, dey aren't as happy as dey used to be. I really don't know why ya jumped in front of dat knife. I miss ya. I know you're lookin' out for everybody around here, that's just the way ya are." Racetrack stood up. "Thanks Dutchy, for everythin'."

Racetrack left the cemetery and headed to his new place in Brooklyn. Tomorrow he would start at Sheepshead Races taking bets at the betting window. Racetrack grew up at that track, and the managers knew him pretty well, so when Racetrack asked for a job, they knew that he could do it. There was no way Racetrack could come back to Brooklyn and take Crazy Eights' place, that in itself would be crazy. Race knew that he owed it to Dutchy to do something good with his life, and though being around the gambling world was not the best business, that was how Racetrack was raised. He could not stay away anymore, gambling on life and hoping he would make ends meat. It was time to settle down and have a real job in the place that he loved, in the town he grew up in. Racetrack could not imagine life any other way.

00000000

**AN: I hope the last chapter worked for everyone, I am happy with it. Thank you all so, so much for reading and reviewing over the course of this story. I know it took me forever but I have a new system in place to help me write/update more frequently. I am going to do a non-newsie story next, but after that I will be doing a non related life story of Dutchy by request of Ealasaid. So, if any of you have any ideas you would like to see in that, send them my way! Thanks again so much for reading!**


End file.
